


Summer Nights

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Humor, It's Shiro, Lance finds an unconscious merman and drags him back to his tiny apartment bathtub, M/M, MerMay, Merman Shiro (Voltron), Mostly via backstory, Spots of angst, Thinks it is a good idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24297586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: To Lance, the obvious solution to finding an unconscious merman washed up on the beach near the apartment is to bring him home.Hunk disagrees.  Vehemently.  But in trying to help Shiro get back to the ocean, he finds himself getting invested.  And then more.
Relationships: Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt, Hunk & Shiro (Voltron), Hunk/Shiro (Voltron), Lance & Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 54
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

The bathroom is full of water.

That isn’t the biggest problem at the moment. It’s not even the most obvious. But Hunk latches onto the puddles on the floor and splash marks along the wall anyway. Of everything he can see right now, that’s the only issue he can actually process and handle.

“How did you even get water up there?” Hunk asks, eyeing the drying patch on the ceiling.

Lance stares back, mouth open. He gestures flatly into the room, specifically at the half-full bathtub. “Dude,” he says. “That’s what you’re getting out of this?”

Hunk’s eyes naturally follow the movement of Lance’s hands, directing him to the thing he was trying not to see. The thing that  _ cannot be there. _

The unconscious, half-naked man draped in the bathtub. And the only reason he qualifies as half-naked is because everything from the waist down is fin and scales. His head lists bonelessly over one edge, his long black and white hair tumbling to the wet tiles. On the other side, a full half of the tail ( _ tail!) _ flops from the rim of the tub and most of the way to the sink.

Hunk blinks. Rubs his eyes. Rubs them again, harder, because this can’t be real.

It doesn’t help. If anything, knowing what he’s going to see only brings out further detail. The man (Hunk refuses to think the other word) is pale. Judging by the horrible gashes on his side and the red, barely-healed end to his right arm, it could be from blood loss. Likewise, the dark-purple scales of his tail are scuffed and in places ripped off. The end of his tail tries to fork in two, but the right half is as missing as his arm.

If Lance had lost his mind and dragged some poor mermaid imposter in an expensive swimsuit into their shared bathroom, they certainly wouldn’t be in this condition. Which makes it all the more convincing.

But it can’t be true. Because there cannot be a fucking merman in Hunk’s bathroom. There wasn’t when he left for work this morning. Then he came home, caught Lance’s nervousness, and found this.

“What,” Hunk says, softly but vehemently, “the fuck, Lance.”

Lance winces and drops his arms. He visibly regrets drawing Hunk’s attention from the water stains and onto the unconscious... person. “I found him.”

Hunk slowly turns to him, bracing one arm on the doorframe. With the other, he rubs his eyes again, but it still doesn’t fix the universe. Part of him wants to smack himself or something to wake up from this dream, but he doesn’t invite pain if he can help it.

“You found him,” Hunk repeats, as if that explains  _ anything at all. _

“On the beach,” Lance adds, eyes big and wide like a begging puppy. “I went for a run and I saw him. Was I supposed to leave him there? Look at him!”

That explains maybe 5 percent of the questions Hunk has. He knows Lance often goes jogging up and down the length of private beach set aside for their neighborhood. Originally, he started it as an excuse to talk to a pair of cute girls from down the street who often sunbathed. But they had moved away, and Lance had kept it up. Anything that got out some of his restless energy was good with Hunk.

Except when he returned with... _ that. _

“Okay,” Hunk says, because that at least is plausible. He understands that series of events, if distantly. Lance found this washed up man on the beach and decided to help. “Why didn’t you call 911? And why did you bring him  _ here?” _

Lance snorts and points to the tail, which Hunk has been trying to avoid again. “You tell me who I should call. The hospital? The vet? The Men in Black? I’m not going to call someone and let him end up in some  _ Shape of Water _ bullshit!”

“This isn’t a movie!” Hunk hisses back. “We don’t know this.... guy. Do you know how to help someone missing an arm? Because I sure as hell don’t!”

Lance’s shoulders slump and his bottom lip sticks out. He leans against the hallway wall opposite the doorway, eyes still on their guest. “Don’t you? You make prosthetics, right? So you know something about it.”

Slumping against the doorway, Hunk grips at his bangs and groans. “I don’t- Lance! First of all, I don’t even make them. I’m barely not an intern anymore. I submit reports, go over reviews and double check measurements.”

“But you  _ could,” _ Lance insists, as if stroking Hunk’s ego is remotely the problem right now.

Hunk throws his hands up. “Maybe? I never have! And this isn’t exactly an optimal testing scenario, is it?” He gestures toward the bathtub without actually looking. “And even if I was an expert, that doesn’t make me a doctor. That makes me an  _ engineer.” _

Lance stares, then bites his bottom lip as he tries to suppress a smile. “Dammit, Jim.”

A hysterical giggle bubbles out of Hunk before he can stop it. Then he points threateningly at Lance. “You cannot get out of this by quoting Star Trek at me.”

“About time I get to do it. You throw those jokes around all the time.” Lance sighs and slumps his shoulders. “I don’t know, Hunk. Seriously. I saw him and I freaked out. He’s hurt and I couldn’t just... walk away and leave him. Besides, he’s a real mermaid. Man. Whatever. Do you really want to just call someone and get him locked in a lab or start a media circus?”

For the first time, Hunk really looks at the man’s face. He has long, dark eyelashes that fan over his cheeks. Despite his wounds (and muscles), they make him look strangely delicate. It’s difficult to tell how old he looks, even by human standards, because of the jagged red line cut over the bridge of his nose.

What Hunk knows is that the man is both pretty and deeply vulnerable.

Hunk doesn’t want to deal with this. He doesn’t want a mythological creature taking up his bathtub. He doesn’t want to clean up the water on the floor. He doesn’t want to be responsible for a stranger’s health when he has no training or supplies. All he wants is to wake up and realize he had the dumbest dream while he napped before dinner.

Finally, Hunk gives in and pinches the back of his hand.

Yup, it hurts. This is real.

“Okay,” he says. “But we’re going to need more than band-aids for this.” Looking over the room, Hunk winces. “And probably more towels, too.”

Lance nods, head bobbing fast. “Yeah, totally. I was about to run out, but I didn’t want you to just, like, find him here. And it seemed like the sort of thing you don’t say over text.”

True. Hunk winces thinking about it.

“Okay, you grab that, and I’ll get started here.” The sooner they get the water off the floor, they less risk they warp or damage something. Hunk would like his security deposit back, if at all possible.

Lance darts down the hallway, grabbing his keys and wallet. “Okay, bandages, towels. Um, probably that alcohol stuff in the brown bottle, right?”

“Hydrogen peroxide,” Hunk corrects absently. He collects both their bath towels and all the hand towels he can find. It means an extra load of laundry, but it’s not like either of them are taking a shower today. Now with a man filling up their tub.

“Yeah, that, cool.” Lance repeats ‘hydrogen peroxide’ a few times to himself, committing it to memory. “Anything else? Snacks?”

Snacks, like this is a normal run to the store.

Looking over the wet bathroom, Hunk pinches his lips. “See if they have those cheap plastic poncho things too, maybe? For when he wakes up.”

If he wakes up. He’s been  _ very _ still this whole time.

Oh, Hunk wishes he hadn’t thought that. The only thing worse than an injured merman in their tub is a  _ dead _ merman in their tub.

“Yeah, good plan. Got it. Back in a bit.” The keys jangle and the door closes. Hunk can hear Lance’s footsteps run down the two flights of stairs toward the parking lot. Hopefully he doesn’t fall and crack his head open, leaving Hunk the sole caretaker of a stolen... person.

Hunk focuses on his task. Imminent water damage is a problem he can actually fix. Taking his pile of towels, he starts to place them around to soak up the puddles.

His concentration only lasts a few minutes. Hunk carefully works around the edge of the tail, but he can’t help taking a closer look. The scales mostly look black, except where the fluorescent lights above hit them directly. Only then can he see the shining purple, glimmering like mica.

The merman has fins too, black at the base and fading to pearly white, though the way he’s laying blocks Hunk’s view of most of them. There’s ridges of them following the merman’s spine, and one large fin right by the end of the tail. On a regular fish, Hunk would be able to name the parts, but it’s much more awkward examining an ‘anal fin’ when it’s attached to a person with a face. 

The tail is pretty. All of this person is pretty. Or, rather, it would be if it weren’t for the damage. Hunk still hasn’t gotten a close look at the edge of his arm. His eyes skate over it, skin prickling with discomfort. The gashes on his side aren’t bleeding, but they show barely healed red flesh below. Of all the wounds, the tail is easiest to examine. It doesn't inspire the same half-pain empathy, since Hunk has no similar parts.

The tailfin is long and elegant, showing the same smooth gradient as the others. The left comes to a delicate, curling point, while the right ends raggedly. Like something huge took a bite and ripped it off.

Hunk pushes the towels around, not even looking at what he’s doing. Instead, he categorizes the bottom half of their guest, trying to look at him scientifically. The trunk of him is powerful and thick. Plenty powerful enough to do damage if he pleased. It would have to be to get him through the water all day.

At the hips, the scales slowly become more sparse, revealing a muscled stomach - plenty of abs, very little fat. A steady supply of lean meat like fish probably helps with that. He’s also covered in scars. Life in the ocean has apparently been hard on him.

There isn’t a clean divide between mer and man. The tips of his fingers are scaled, shining black where the nails come to points. More scales dot the line of his collarbone and along his sides. Likely, the pattern continues onto the back.

His head, though, is utterly human. If Hunk couldn’t see the whole picture, he never would have guessed that face was attached to a giant scaled tail. 

Hunk wants to reach out. Curiosity overtakes his earlier worries, if only for a moment. Does his skin feel like Hunk’s? He’s so pale and still, and he presumably lives in the ocean. Is he cold blooded? Cool to the touch?

Is he breathing?

Shaking his head, Hunk focuses on the towels again. Once they’re soaked, he wrings them out in the sink and repeats the process until the worst of it is up. Then he leaves them in a pile on their washing machine, deeply glad their place came with one. He suspects this won’t be the only time he has to clean a soaked bathroom so long as the merman is here.

After, Hunk stands in the hallway, not sure what to do with himself. Lance isn’t back yet, so there’s no sense trying to handle those wounds. Does he just... go through his day like normal? Make himself a snack and put on the TV like there isn’t a supposedly mythological creature in his bathroom?

Hunk bites his lip and sticks his head in the bathroom, checking on their guest. The merman is just where he was before - limp and still.

Very, very still.

Hunk strains to see if he’s breathing. He has a chest like a human, but does that mean he has lungs like theirs too? Maybe he’s suffocated without water, wherever his gills are supposed to be. Maybe he was already dead, and Lance didn’t realize it when he dragged this poor person into their apartment.

Vaguely, Hunk hears feet thumping back up the steps. A few seconds later, keys jangle in the door. But Hunk steps forward, fingers outstretched. Just to check. Surely even a merman would have a pulse he can find, right?

Hunk hesitates, because if he can’t find a heartbeat, that means he’s been hanging around a dead body for the past half an hour. The thought turns his stomach. But they have to know eventually, right?

Slowly, his own heart thudding in his ears, Hunk places his fingers on the merman’s throat, right where a vein would be on a human.

The man’s eyes snap open. He lets out a cry, jerking away from Hunk’s hand. The tail becomes a dark blur until it impacts Hunk’s side, sending him skidding on the tiled floor and into the hallway.

_ Ow. _ Hunk’s been knocked down by big dogs at full sprint before - his uncle always has a few hounds who romped around the yard. The shock of suddenly being on his back and the ache in his chest is very similar.

The front door finally opens. Lance runs through, slamming the door behind him, and gapes at Hunk sprawled out in the hallway. “Are you okay? Did you trip?”

“No,” Hunk manages. His side twinges and he’s a little out of breath, but he doesn’t feel worse than that. “Uh...”

“Who are you?”

Hunk jolts, shocked by the deep, unfamiliar voice echoing in their bathroom. He stares back at the merman, who just raises his chin in defiance. If Hunk couldn’t see the red marks on his side and the end of his arm, he would never have known he was injured.

Lance spares a quick glance at Hunk to double check that he’s okay, then steps around him. He plasters on a huge smile and shakes the bag. “Hey! Good to see you up. We’re friends. I found you on the beach and thought you needed help. We’ve got bandages and stuff to clean up those cuts.”

Picking himself up, Hunk takes a deep breath and fully considers just walking out the door and not coming back until this nonsense is  _ fixed. _ But he also doesn’t want to give up his home, where his bed and his kitchen and his laptop are. So instead he steps into the bathroom.

The merman watches them both. His dark eyes are narrowed, and his long hair falls into his face. The end of his tail slaps against the tiled floor, half threat and half thoughtful. Or, at least, it is until he jolts in obvious pain.

“Yeah, that’s what we mean,” Lance says, still wearing that fake-looking grin.

“You haven’t said who you are,” the merman bites out, the pain finally showing through his voice. His eyes dart from one to the other, and he narrows at Hunk.

It takes him a second to realize why. The merman is sizing them up as threats, and he’s assumed  _ Hunk _ is more dangerous based on size.

A hysterical giggle nearly bubbles out of him, but Hunk manages to bite it back.

“I’m Lance,” Lance says, hand on his chest. He jiggles the plastic bag toward Hunk. “And this is my roommate, Hunk. I swear we’re friendly, and we haven’t told anyone else about you. Who are you?”

“And how do you speak English?” Hunk adds under his breath.

Apparently it wasn’t quiet enough, because those dark eyes snap onto him. “I hear things,” he says, and from his flat tone that’s all they’ll be getting in answer. “I’m called Shiro.”

Shiro. They have a merman and his name is Shiro.

Hunk pinches his hand one more time, just to be sure. He still doesn’t wake up.

“Looks like you’re hurting,” Lance says, tone cajoling and easy. “Those cuts are pretty nasty. And, uh, you know.” He flaps his right arm like a wing. Shiro just stares back flatly. “Yeah. That. Want us to help?”

Shiro sets his jaw and looks around. The bathroom isn’t big, and that’s before there’s a merman halfway filling the room. Even if he could move around without pain (or at all, with that tail), Hunk and Lance are both in the way of the only door.

Hunk winces, sympathy unexpectedly blooming for the guy. He was clearly hurt recently, and then he woke up in a strange place with no way out.

“That would be appreciated,” Shiro says, apparently giving in with as much grace as he can. The stump of his right arm jerks, making him wince. Then he holds out his left hand, likely replicating the gesture he’d tried to make. “May I see?”

Lance hands the bag over, eyes lighting up as he steps closer. His eyes roam over the tail, wincing at the injuries but otherwise clearly excited.

Of course he would be. Lance’s obsession with mermaids goes back as long as Hunk’s known him, which is most of their lives. The only way he could be happier was if Lance had been the one to wind up with fins.

(Or, if the mermaid in question had feminine features and wanted to give a kiss in return for being saved, but that wasn’t exactly a charitable thought.)

Shiro takes the bag, pinching the thin plastic in two fingers with obvious distaste. He gives the whole thing a shake, testing the weight, then moves to turn it over and dump it all out into the bath.

“No!” Hunk shouts, reaching out to stop him.

Shiro flinches at the noise, eyes slamming shut. A moment later, he straightens again, jaw set. “What?” He demands, voice sharper.

Hunk takes hold of the bag, tugging gently until Shiro lets go. “The bandages won’t work if you get them wet.”

Shiro stares at him like he’s babbled out nonsense. He looks pointedly at his torso, still submerged in the tub, and then back up.

Oh. Yeah, they hadn’t really thought about that, had they? Hunk looks back at Lance, who gives a sheepish smile and a shrug.

“We can at least bandage your arm,” Hunk says. “And start cleaning. But no need to waste them.” He reaches into the bag and pulls out two new towels, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a few rolls of bandages, two wrapped ponchos, and cotton swabs (which Hunk is thankful for, since he didn’t think to ask.)

That should be it, but there’s still weight at the bottom of the bag. Hunk pulls out a package of candies. Specifically, Swedish Fish.

Expression flat, Hunk holds them up to Lance. “Really?”

“It seemed appropriate,” Lance mutters back, cheeks flushed. “And I like them.”

Hunk rolls his eyes but obligingly tosses the bag to Lance, who snatches it out of the air.

“What?” Shiro asks, head following the movement of the bag. His tail twitches, and once again he winces. “What are those?”

“Candy,” Hunk says. “A snack food that’s shaped like fish. Lance thinks he’s being funny.”

Lance rips open the package and holds out one between his fingers for Shiro to see. “Want to try one?”

Shiro eyes them both dubiously. Then, slowly, he holds out his hand. Lance beams as he hands one over and watches eagerly for Shiro’s reaction.

Wary under the scrutiny, Shiro pauses. But he obligingly puts it in his mouth.

Then he coughs and spits it out. Thankfully, it lands in the water and not on Hunk. 

“That doesn’t taste like fish at all!” Shiro accuses, nose wrinkled.

Lance lets out a laugh, which only makes Shiro look more tense. “No, no, sorry. It’s not supposed to. It’s sugar. The shape is just for fun.” He pops one in his mouth and chews with exaggerated relish.

Shiro just continues to stare, his expression clearly saying that he thinks Lance is nuts.

Clearing his throat, Hunk holds up the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and shakes it. “Can I start cleaning those cuts? I’m warning you now that it’ll sting, and if you hit me with your tail again then you can handle it yourself.”

Shiro blinks, then nods. For the first time, he looks abashed rather than wary. “I apologize. I was startled. Are you unharmed?”

“A little bruised, maybe, but I’ll live.” Hunk uncaps the bottle and breaks the seal, then pours some on a cotton swab. “Can you sit up more?”

Shiro reaches for the edge of the tub with both arms, and slides further down when his right fails to hold him up. Scowling, he uses his tail instead to help scoot him higher in the tub until his side is fully exposed.

Hunk moves slowly, because clearly startling Shiro is a bad idea and he doesn’t feel like being smacked twice. With a quick glance up at that shockingly human face, he presses the pad down.

The muscles under his hand jolt as Shiro goes stiff. But he doesn’t make a noise, and thankfully the tail doesn’t come into play again. He stays still, if uncomfortable, as Hunk dabs along the wounds.

Frankly, this is probably a waste of time. The cuts are at least a day or two old, and so they’re not bleeding or open any longer. But it’s the thing Hunk can actually  _ do, _ so he continues. The deep bruising and deep redness will have to go away on their own.

As he works, Lance puts the toilet seat down and sits on it, still snacking on his candy. “So,” he says, all pleasantly casual. “Merman, huh?”

Shiro’s jaw sets, but he nods. “Yes.” He jolts again as Hunk reapplies more hydrogen peroxide. 

Lance waits, but nothing else comes. “Cool,” he says, that fake casual tone he usually uses when trying to flirt. “That’s cool. Mermaids are cool. And mermen, too, obviously.”

One dark brow raises up. Shiro otherwise says nothing.

Hunk bites his lip, torn between amusement and frustration. Everything about Shiro is a mystery, and Hunk loves nothing more than answers. But he has to admit that listening to Lance get stonewalled is kind of funny.

“Are there more of you, then?” Lance continues, a pleading note to his voice. He holds out another fish, as if the candy will bribe him into talking.

Shiro tilts his head and takes it. This time, he nibbles on it and doesn’t spit it out. “Maybe I’m the only one.”

Whining, Lance slumps back against the tank. “Oh, come on. Clearly you exist and we already didn’t tell anyone. We’re trustworthy! We’re helping! Why not tell us?”

Shiro lets out a snort that’s so bitter that Hunk nearly drops the cotton pad. “Ah, yes, why shouldn’t I immediately trust a pair of humans?”

“We’re nice,” Lance says, but his voice is smaller now.

Shiro’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes are cold and sharp. “Nice enough to dump your oil in the water, or come by with huge nets to take every fish, or fill the ocean with these.” He snatches up the discarded plastic bag and shakes it pointedly at Lance. “I know the way humans treat the rest of the ocean. I have no intention of having it directed at me personally.”

Lance slumps, toying with the edge of the bag. “I mean, yeah, those things are bad. I agree with you, and I’d stop it all if I could. But most humans don’t have any part in that. The people with power decide to transport oil unsafely or dump trash in the oceans. Not us.”

“Not all humans,” Hunk mutters flatly.

Shiro eyes him, but obviously doesn’t understand the reference. “Even so, you’ll forgive me if I remain vague.”

“Yeah, okay. You know what? That’s fair.” Lance bites on another fish. “Can you tell us anything? Nothing dangerous. Are seashell bras real?” He winces at Shiro’s confused expression. “Guess not. How about you just tell us what happened to you?”

Once again, Shiro’s muscles lock up. He looks away, staring at the plain cream wall rather than meet either of their eyes.

Hunk finishes dabing the last of the cuts on Shiro’s side and pulls back. Now that he’s been up close to the wounds and Shiro’s scars, he doubts the story is a nice one. It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell Shiro he doesn’t have to share.

But Hunk wants to  _ know. _ There’s a merman in his bathtub. Now that the shock is wearing off, curiosity is growing in its place. Surely they can know  _ something _ about Shiro?

“I was in a fight,” Shiro finally says, each word slow and carefully chosen. “I had angered someone dangerous. Several someones, actually. He tried to catch me. I got away, but not cleanly.”

The story is vague, and Hunk’s mind clatters to fill in details. Were those mysterious ‘someones’ human or merpeople? Did someone try to catch Shiro, and that’s why he’s so wary?

“Oh,” Lance says lamely. There’s few ways to respond to something so vague and yet so clearly painful. “Um, sorry to hear that. Except that you got away. That’s good, right?”

Hunk hopes it’s good. Maybe they’re harboring a merman fugitive. Maybe Shiro is dangerous. But he doesn’t  _ look _ dangerous, aside from swatting Hunk like a fly. He’s been polite if wary so far.

“It’s very good,” Shiro says. “It would have been better if I’d managed to keep to places I know instead of getting lost, and even better if I hadn’t lost consciousness and wound up here.”

Lance snorts and nods agreeably. “Yeah, that usually isn't fun. But hey, at least you found nice people willing to patch you up and give you a place to stay.”

Shiro’s head snaps up. “Excuse me?”

Blinking, Lance tilts his head. “Which part of that did you miss?”

“I can’t stay here.” Shiro again tries to push himself up. Hunk dodges out of the way before he can get splashed, but the water doesn’t slosh past the lip of the tub. “I need to get home. Princess Allura will be worried, and poor  _ Keith. _ I’ve been gone too long already.”

“Woah, woah!” Hunk holds up his hands. Despite that, his mind works over those new details. “Calm down, it’s okay. It’s the middle of the afternoon. We can’t go now unless you want everyone in the neighborhood to see you.”

Shiro stills at that, then slumps down in the tub. “I suppose you’re right,” he admits, lips pressed thin. The expression is dangerously close to a pout.

Lance catches Hunk’s eyes, his own bright and wild. The word ‘Princess’ has clearly caught his attention, and Hunk would be lying if he said he wasn’t also curious.

“Besides,” Lance adds, far too perky, “you’re still hurt. Better to wait until you heal up, right?”

Shiro stares at him, jaw set. “I’ll be fine.”

“Can you even swim like that?” Lance points down to Shiro’s half-ripped tail.

“Yes,” Shiro says, but his bravado can’t hide the flash of discomfort and uncertainty behind his eyes.

Hunk nods to his arm. “And this wound still looks bad.” That’s an understatement. Hunk doesn’t even like looking at where the limb ends. Shiro’s arm has healed enough that the bone underneath isn’t immediately visible, but the damage is still clearly new. 

Wait.

Why is Hunk arguing this? If the merman leaves on his own, they’re off the hook. They did what they could, cleaned him off, kept him safe, then let him go. What’s the alternative? Hold him hostage? Letting him go might be the best for everyone.

Shiro holds his stump closer to his chest, as if the angle will disguise that his arm is gone. “I can’t stay. I have responsibilities. People need me. And... my friend will worry. I can’t disappear on him.”

Lance turns his wide-eyed gaze to Hunk, clearly pleading for help.

Hunk looks Shiro over. He doesn’t want to handle this. He wants dinner and a nap, not this responsibility, not this weird, unasked for secret. Logistically, this makes no sense. Is Shiro supposed to stay in this tub, only a half of him submerged, for the whole time it takes for him to heal?

But the alternative is letting Shiro go off, when his tail is damaged and his arm has just been lost. He’s hurting but hiding it. None of Shiro’s worry has been for returning to his home where he was hurt - only for people who need him.

Dammit, Hunk doesn’t want to  _ respect _ this unwanted merman. He wants even less to worry and care.

Too late now.

“At least give your arm time to heal,” Hunk says. He nods to it. “It’s still swollen, and your cuts will probably tear easily. You can’t see your friend or return to your responsibilities if you die on the way.”

Shiro’s eyes flash with stubborn fire. But Hunk just stares back, jaw set. This much eye contact is uncomfortable, but Hunk is  _ right. _ And he doesn’t want this man to die just because Hunk couldn’t take a little conflict.

Finally, it’s Shiro who looks away. “I suppose a few days more won’t hurt much.”

Lance beams, and it looks like he keeps from pumping his fist by sheer force of will. Which is good, because Shiro probably wouldn’t appreciate it. “Okay, good. Yeah. We’ll take good care of you, promise.” 

“Speaking of.” Hunk nods to the arm. “May I see that?”

Shiro hesitates only a moment before holding out his stump. There’s tension at the corner of his eyes, showing how nervous the move makes him. But he stays still and allows Hunk to start cleaning without fuss.

Lance leans forward, dropping his voice to a conspiratory whisper. “So, seriously. Not even one seashell bra? Really?”

Shiro’s nose crinkles. “What’s a ‘bra’?”

The resulting bark of laughter only served to confuse him more.

Hunk sits back, staring at them both. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

This is his reality now. He’s going to have to handle it. But he can do this. 

It’s only for a few days. Then he’ll never have to think about this again.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Hunk barely drags himself out of bed. He feels like he’s been recently run over. He’d been up late, tossing and turning as he tried to force his mind to relax. The nightmare possibilities crept up on him the longer he stared at his dark ceiling. He half expected to hear a SWAT team burst down the door and arrest them for harboring a merperson. Even worse, in the chaos of the evening, he’d totally forgotten about dinner, so he wakes up with his stomach growling and without enough time for proper breakfast.

Out of sheer habit, Hunk stumbles out of his room and to the bathroom. He opens the door and pauses, remembering anew that it’s occupied. Which really makes his morning shower a problem.

Shiro is awake, and looks like he has been for a while. His right arm is held out in front of him, the fingers of his left hand gently brushing over the bandaged stump. His expression of pain falls away at the sight of Hunk, replaced by calm neutrality.

“Good morning,” Shiro says formally, as if he were a normal guest.

Hunk starts to reply, then yawns wide enough to crack his jaw. “Um. Yeah. Morning.”

Shiro’s head tilts, making his long hair spill over his shoulder. He eyes Hunk like he wasn’t sure the display wasn’t some kind of odd greeting, or maybe threat. Tentatively, he copies it, exposing his teeth and opening his mouth before shutting it hard.

Two things occur to Hunk. The first is that merpeople apparently don’t yawn. The second is that Shiro’s teeth are sharp.

_ Predator. _

Hunk shivers and hopes Shiro doesn’t notice. “Um. Sorry to disturb you. I need to, um, you know. Get ready.”

Shiro blinks up at him, clearly clueless what ‘get ready’ means. But he nods calmly anyway. “Of course. This is your territory. Do whatever you need.”

“Um, thanks.” Hunk shakes off the absurdity of thanking this person for the right to brush his teeth in his own bathroom. Instead, he focuses on getting rid of the awful taste in his mouth and trying to wake himself up. The whole time he’s aware of Shiro’s curious eyes on him.

Once he rinses and spits, Hunk eyes Shiro with new trepidation. Those dark eyes don’t leave his, politely curious.

Hunk finally clears his throat. “I also, um, need to...” He gestures toward the toilet. “Use this.”

“Okay,” Shiro says, still utterly calm and without looking away.

So he doesn’t get it. Hunk squirms, mortified to have to explain. “That’s for... urination.”

Shiro’s brows go up. “Ah.” He still doesn’t stop his calm observation.

“Privately?” Hunk’s voice jumps up to a squeak.

The brows raise even higher. “Oh. I may need your help leaving and returning for that.” Shiro tentatively grabs hold of the lip of the bathtub, starting to raise himself up with his one arm. Water churns, threatening to spill over.

“No!” Hunk winces and holds up his hands. “No, no, you can stay there. Just cover your eyes or something?”

Shiro settles back down, still openly confused. “If you wish.” He obligingly closes his eyes and covers them. “Will this do?”

It’s not great, but it’s the best they’re going to get. “Yeah. Just a minute.” Hunk goes as fast as he can, cheeks flaming red the whole time. Once his pants are up and his hands are washed, he chances a look at Shiro, who still has his eyes covered. “You can look again.”

Shiro drops his hand back into the water and nods.

Hunk stands in the doorway, not sure what to do. He’s deeply aware of his time ticking away before he has to go to work. Lance doesn’t start his shift until later this afternoon, so he’ll be around but he won’t be up for at least a couple of hours. So do they just... leave Shiro here?

Well, they did overnight.

“Um, do you need anything?” Hunk finally asks, and hopes the answer is no. He doesn’t have time to do anything to help, not really, but he can’t just  _ not ask. _ “You’ll be okay here?”

Shiro’s lips thin but he nods. “I will be, yes.” His tail flicks, but this time he’s learned enough not to hit it against the floor and cause himself pain. 

Speaking of, Hunk eyes the half of the tail outside of the tub. “Are you going to... dry out or something?”

Shiro follows his gaze, shoulders tense. “I can manage,” he says firmly. But the way his eyes dart around the room says he’s not sure of himself, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

Well, if he won’t ask, Hunk can’t help. “Okay. I’ll be back later, and Lance will be around. You can shout if you need something.” 

Hunk turns to leave, but glances over his shoulder one last time. Shiro ducks his head, apparently thinking Hunk has left. A frown cuts across his face. In that moment of vulnerability he looks uncertain. Worried. Scared, even.

Once again, it hits Hunk how this must feel from the other side. Shiro’s trapped in a place he doesn’t understand and people he doesn’t know. Yeah, they’re trying to help, but that doesn’t make their world less alien to him. And from what he’s said and the damage to his body, maybe Shiro has reason not to trust everyone he meets.

Heart clenching, Hunk turns around and walks back in. He moves the mat over a bit, so it’s under Shiro’s tail. Hopefully if he splashes a bit more, that’ll catch it. If not, he’ll text Lance to keep checking in to dry the floor off. “Here,” he says, gesturing to the faucet. “Let me show you how to work this. That way you can have more water when you need, or just freshen it up. If you pull on the silver thing under you, the water in here will drain and you can replace it.”

It only takes a couple of minutes for Shiro to figure out the controls. He’s especially interested in how the water can change temperature, and tentatively twists it for hot water.

“Does it come from a spring?” Shiro asks, letting the stream run down his left palm and along his arm. Then he brings his palm up to his face, enjoying the heat.

Hunk smiles despite himself. “No, it’s heated by electricity. Um, if you can, make sure the water doesn’t get too high in the tub, okay? Water on the ground will warp the floor, and then we have to replace it.” He considers also explaining to Shiro about the water bill and not running the faucet constantly, but that seems like a more involved conversation. If it gets bad, he hopes Lance will step in.

Nodding thoughtfully, Shiro obligingly lifts his tail. “I’ll be careful. Thank you again. I do appreciate that you’re willing to help me heal.”

Hunk doesn’t mention that he wouldn’t if Lance hadn’t taken the choice away. It seems like a cruel thing to say, and... well, maybe it was the right thing to do, even if Hunk’s nervous. At least Shiro has been an easy guest thus far. “Sure. I have to go. Lance can contact me if you need that too.”

“Understood. You have work, yes?” Shiro nods, a little smile at the corner of his lips. He seems proud to know that detail. “I will not cause issues if I can help it, I promise.”

He seems sincere about that, at least. That probably means he won’t try and attack them, but that doesn’t mean the government won’t send agents to drag them all away. Even so, Hunk nods. “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

Going to his room to change, Hunk chances a glance at the clock. It’s five minutes later than he thought, which means Hunk isn’t even going to have time to grab something to eat on the way to work.

Well, shit.

***

Work is completely normal. Hunk does paperwork, reviews requests for new prosthetics, goes over plans for new ones. He drinks coffee, says hi to his coworkers, and runs out to the convenience store for lunch. Just another day at the office.

It’s absurd. Hunk forces on a smile, and watches the faces of everyone he works with. But to them, this is a perfectly typical day. Just a normal Thursday, aren’t you glad it’s almost Friday?

Life continues on, despite the fact that Hunk’s entire worldview has been forced to accept  _ merpeople _ as reality. No one around him knows. 

Hunk does his best to concentrate. His eyes are heavy and all he wants to do is nap at his desk, but he makes himself focus. It occurs to him that maybe he should have taken a sick day, but it’s really not an option. He’s one of half a dozen young engineers at his level, all of whom are competing for the very occasional higher position at the company. If Hunk wants to move up and be more than a glorified intern (or even to get a decent paycheck), he has to keep up. Even if that wasn’t the case, long hours and overtime are the norm here. Any sick day could signal that he can’t keep up.

Frankly, Hunk hates the whole thing. He doesn’t  _ want _ to work here long term. He hates the faux-Silicone-Valley tech bro bullshit. But he needs this job. And if he wants to get a better job next time, he has to stomach this one for at least two years. Assuming the next place isn’t exactly the same.

Hunk glares down at his laptop as if it’s to blame for his exhaustion. 

“If you want to light your computer on fire, there are better options.” A folder flops down over the keyboard.

Hunk’s head snaps up, and he gives Pidge a wane smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she replies. She holds a huge stack of folders in her arms, and her hair is even more of a fluffy mess than usual. Despite that, Pidge offers him a grin and leans her hip against his desk. “Seriously, what’s up? You look rough.”

“Insomnia,” Hunk says, because technically it’s true. Again, the absurdity hits. Pidge is his closest friend outside of Lance. She’s one of the smartest, most driven people he knows. And she has no idea he has a mythological creature stuffed in his apartment.

Pidge wrinkles her nose. “Ugh, that sucks. If you want to take over one of the meeting rooms for a nap, I’ll cover for you.”

Hunk actually considers it, which is a sign of how bad off he is. But he shakes his head and offers a smile. “Thanks, but no. I can make it till I get home.” He nods to the stack of folders. “They have you doing deliveries?”

The distraction works. Pidge groans dramatically and sets the pile down on Hunk’s desk. “Yes. It’s stupid. Why do they even  _ bother _ interviewing if all I’m going to do is give people their mail and make powerpoints?”

Hunk nods in pure sympathy, sipping at his coffee. Just last year he was in Pidge’s shoes, and he liked it just as much. He was just less comfortable complaining. “Junior engineer is barely better.”

“Useless.” Pidge flips open the top folder and casually looks through it. “This is what we should be doing.” She turns it over and shows him the design for someone’s right foot. 

Hunk stares at it. Shiro’s damaged tailfin flashes before his eyes. It’s thin and flat, so it would be far easier to design and make flexible than a whole limb.

“You’re right,” he says slowly. Already, he can mentally see the design, the materials, how they would be put together. “Actually, are you busy?”

Pidge looks at the stack and snorts. “No.” Then after a second, she sighs. “I mean, yeah, but it won’t take me long, anyway. Why? What are you thinking?”

“I had an idea.” He hesitates, mind working as he desperately reaches for an excuse. “Lance was telling me about some of the rehabilitation stuff they do for marine animals. He was watching one of those compilation videos, you know? And I was thinking how simple some of those would be with the 3D printers.”

Pidge’s brows rise up. She tilts her head, visibly doing the math. 

It really is a shame they’re basically having her fetch coffee. Pidge is probably the smartest person he knows, and Hunk isn’t exactly humble about his own intelligence.

“Yeah, it really would be. But I’m guessing there isn’t as much money in it, huh? Especially if it’s usually government groups or nonprofits or whatever.” Pidge flaps the top folder at him again. Hunk can’t read the small print from his seat, but he doesn’t have to. The prices on the custom prosthetics are never, ever cheap.

Hunk shrugs. “It doesn’t have to be the company, does it? I mean, outside of using the 3D printers. But if nothing else, it’d be a good project on the side. Shows initiative or whatever. Some out of the box design work, too.”

Expression going sly, Pidge grins. “Yeah, you’re probably right. And it’s not like they use the older 3D printers much anyway. I caught one of the techs up there watching porn on his work computer. I bet I can get us in there for a couple of hours.”

Hunk’s cheeks go pink as he makes a face. Ugh. If someone had to watch porn at work, couldn’t they at least use their personal phone or something? “That’ll work. Here, let’s finish up what we’re doing, then we can go over the designs. I’ll make up some damage for us to fix, sound good?”

“Yeah. Give me ten.” Pidge beams, openly excited. Scooping up the folder pile, she gives him a wave and sets off with far more enthusiasm.

It worked. At least for now.

Hunk bites the inside of his cheek, stomach turning. This is a lot of lying and possible misuse of company property. But if it helps get Shiro back into the water and out of their bathtub, it’s pretty worth it. And besides, this is why he wanted to work at this company. To help people with his engineering and designing. Maybe he didn’t mean mermen, but why not? Especially when the project really could set him apart at work.

It’s a win-win for everyone, assuming he doesn’t get in trouble.

Taking a deep breath, Hunk applies himself to the report, determined to get it done before Pidge gets back. 

***

It’s half an hour later than usual when Hunk gets back to the apartment. His head is still full of designs, and he’s buzzing with the energy that comes from working on an inspiring project. It also helps that Pidge is a great partner. She’s smart as a whip and picks up on his ideas immediately. Maybe she’s not always as careful about double checking measurements or reinforcing moving parts, but he can tolerate that easily.

Immediately, Hunk makes a beeline for the kitchen. Yes, Shiro is probably still in the bathroom, and Hunk should probably make sure everything is okay. But he didn’t get any texts from Lance about issues, so they’re probably just fine. And besides, Hunk has only had lunch and coffee to eat in about 24 hours. An early dinner sounds great.

Hunk hums to himself as he opens the fridge. Yesterday’s plan had been pasta, but Hunk isn’t really feeling that right now. He wants something heartier. Maybe a heavy soup? It’s warm out, but it’ll be satisfying and quick to make. They definitely still have chicken in the fridge he needs to use this week, as well as those fish fillets that-

Fish fillets.

Hunk’s thoughts snap to last night, when Lance had tried to feed Shiro the Swedish Fish. He’d spat it out, and then eaten the second. But that was it. Then the night had finished without dinner. Hunk had left early without breakfast, and Lance usually slept through the morning hours and grabbed fast food for lunch.

They’d never eaten in the apartment. Which meant they’d never had to think about Shiro and food at the same time. And he couldn’t leave the tub, which meant...

Hunk slammed the fridge door shut and dashed down the hallway. He knocked twice on Lance’s door, then opened it without waiting for an answer. 

“Woah!” Lance startled from behind his desk. He yanked his headphones down, eyes wide. “Dude, c’mon. Is something wrong?”

“Did you feed Shiro?”

Lance paused. His eyes went wide with horror. “I wasn’t... I went out for lunch, and I didn’t... What about at breakfast?”

Hunk shook his head, equally disturbed. “I was running late. I didn’t get breakfast at all.”

“Oh  _ shit,” _ Lance hissed. He covered his face with both hands. “Oh my god, we can never get a pet. We suck at this.”

Guilt churns at Hunk’s stomach. They’d been caught up in their lives and hadn’t thought about it. It was so absurd to have a merman in their apartment that he hadn’t even given a thought to basic needs like food. Suddenly, Hunk is extremely glad he showed Shiro how to drain the tub, because he hadn’t even considered how he would go to the bathroom.

“What do merpeople even eat?” Lance asked, head tilted back and eyes on the ceiling. He drags his hands down his face. “Fish, right? That’s what he thought the candy was.”

“All kinds of fish?” Hunk asks. All he gets is a wild shrug, because obviously Lance doesn’t know. “Let me... shit, I’ll ask.”

With that, Hunk turns and goes to the bathroom. This time the door is closed, maybe to give Shiro more privacy. Either way, it gives Hunk a chance to collect himself and try not to look so frazzled.

Taking a deep breath, Hunk pushes open the door. As he does, Shiro lifts his head. He’s slumped down farther in the tub until only his neck is above. His right arm flops out to the side, keeping his bandages dry, and even more of his tail is out in the open. Now, he has it flopped over the toilet, the seat down like last night when Lance sat on it.

“Oh, welcome back,” Shiro says. He sounds calm and comfortable, though his eyes are still sharply watching him.

Hunk can’t even complain that Shiro is eyeing him like a threat. Not after they  _ starved _ him.

“Hi,” Hunk answers weakly. He hears Lance step out of his bedroom and come over, but doesn’t turn around to see. “Um. I was going to cook dinner. We have fish. Salmon. That’s good for you?”

Immediately, Shiro’s eyes light up. He starts to push himself into more of a sitting position, but then pauses. Then he slumps down, this time deliberately casual. “If it’s not too much trouble,” he says. Despite his calm words, his eyes are brighter. Hungry.

Where did Shiro learn to hide hunger like that?

“Of course, dude,” Lance says. He steps out from behind Hunk, shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, I should have asked about lunch. And breakfast. Seriously, next time yell at us or something, okay?”

Shiro cocks his head to the side. He looks between them both like he’s gauging their honesty. “It wasn’t pressing.”

“Going without food all day isn’t pressing?” Lance looks even more wounded at that. “We’re trying to help you, Shiro. You can ask if you need stuff.”

Shiro continues to watch them both. His head tilts forward, and the white bangs fall into his eyes. “I didn’t realize it would upset you.”

Lance makes a wounded noise at that. “You really think we would starve you?”

“No,” Shiro says soothingly. “But it’s fine. I can go a day without food. I would have said before it became dangerous.”

While Lance is still struggling with that, Hunk steps forward. He sinks to his knees next to the tub so he and Shiro are at eye level. The dark eyes go wide, but meet his own.

“No one should go hungry if we can help it,” Hunk says, deeply serious. Keeping eye contact with Shiro is uncomfortable, but he makes himself keep it up. This is important. “You’ll have enough to eat as long as you’re here, I promise you. If we ever fail at that, remind us. Please.”

Slowly, some of the performative calm leaves Shiro. His eyes flicker over Hunk’s face and he swallows hard. “Oh. I didn’t realize it was so important to you.” He breaks eye contact first, looking down at the water instead. “I will. I’m sorry to worry you.”

“We’re sorry we let it slip our minds,” Hunk said. “There’s no excuse. All I can say is that the day has been so strange that I didn’t even think about it. But I’m going to go make dinner now, okay? Salmon is good, but how about vegetables?”

Shiro’s gaze flickers up as he considers. “I eat some vegetation,” he offers. “Kelp, for example. But nothing that grows above water.”

That sounds like limited portions, and possibly to supplement other meals. But that’s part of the reason for the sides that Hunk makes too. “Then, we’ll start you off with a small portion. If it doesn’t agree with you, we’ll stick to meat. Maybe we’ll try some meat other than fish with you too.” If nothing else, it’d be convenient. Hunk likes seafood well enough, but it can be expensive and he doesn’t want to waste anything else he’s already bought.

Shiro slowly nods. “That sounds wise. Thank you.” The words come out softly, and his expression loses some of that habitual distance. Instead he regards Hunk with respect, or maybe even admiration.

Just from remembering to  _ feed him. _ Hunk’s a little insulted that’s all it takes. Even more than that, he’s worried. What happened to Shiro? Does this have to do with the ‘dangerous people’?

“Okay, I’m going to cook, then.” Hunk pushes himself back up and looks to Lance. “It won’t take long. Are you sticking around?”

Lance looks between them, clearly tempted, but he shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. It’s a waste to eat during the busy shift. There’s always messed up orders or no-answers I can eat. Thanks, though. I’ll take leftovers for lunch.”

Hunk gives him a thumbs up and shoots Shiro a smile before heading out into the kitchen.

On the way, he hears Shiro speak up. “Your job is food? Do you work at one of the restaurants?”

Hunk pauses, warmth filling his chest. He’s pretty sure this is the first time Shiro has really shown interest in their lives. 

Lance laughs softly. “Uh, kind of? People make the food and I drive it over to other people. Have you ever heard of pizza?”

“I... Maybe? That is... the large, pale triangles?”

“That’s right, yeah!”

Still smiling, Hunk opens the fridge and takes out the salmon fillets, as well as a head of broccoli to start prepping.

This feels like a breakthrough. 

Really, Hunk shouldn’t care. Shiro will hopefully be back home soon. 

He’s beaming as he gets to work anyway.

***

Shiro tentatively takes the plate, his brow knitted together. He tilts it to the side, inspecting the salmon, and sniffs carefully. “This is salmon?”

“And roasted broccoli,” Hunk says. His stomach falls watching Shiro, who clearly seems thrown off. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s strange, is all.” Shiro’s still frowning as he carefully sets the plate down, balanced between his stomach and the curve of his tail. Now that his hand is free, he uses one sharply tipped finger to prod at the top. “I’ve never seen salmon look this way. It is... paler.”

All Hunk did was bake it. Usually he’d add a crust, but he figured just salt and pepper would be best. Instead, he made a quick dipping sauce for himself. “Maybe it has to do with the way it’s stored? We freeze it to keep it fresh until we eat it.”

Shiro tilts his head, considering. Using two fingers, he carefully picks up a grain of salt from his plate and brings it closer to his face. “Oh, this is sand?”

Sand? Why would Hunk-

Has Shiro ever had salt outside of the water?

...Oh, Hunk’s an idiot. He knows what’s wrong.

Sitting down with his own plate, Hunk bites back a chuckle. “The salmon’s been cooked. Heated up, which changes the texture and kills bacteria that’s dangerous to humans. That’s why it’s strange.”

Shiro’s mouth falls open, revealing those jagged teeth. “You set the fish on  _ fire?” _

This time, Hunk can’t help his snicker. It’s just so  _ absurd _ . His reaction doesn’t reassure Shiro, whose bottom lip juts out.

Pouting again. This time, Hunk can appreciate that it’s cute.

“That’s how humans prepare meat,” Hunk says. “And I added salt. That’s what those little rocks are. That’s just what it looks like when it’s out of the water.”

“Oh.” Shiro tentatively places the grain of salt on his tongue, then nods. He brightens, either from understanding or just such a familiar taste. “Yes, it’s the same.”

Finally, he starts to pull apart the fillet. He pinches the edge and frowns when it pulls apart easily. But a glance at Hunk shows how he’s using his fork to do something similar, so Shiro seems to decide it’s alright. Finally, he pops the piece into his mouth and swallows.

His eyes go bright. “Oh!”

Hunk’s chest puffs out. His cooking is so damn good even a  _ mermaid _ thinks it’s great. Yeah, part of it is that he’s probably only ever eaten raw food. But still. Even his simplest recipe crosses species lines. He’ll take it.

Digging in more enthusiastically, Shiro polishes off half the salmon before he pauses. His tongue darts out, licking his lips as he considers. “Where are the bones?”

“They’re removed,” Hunk says, once again smiling. “Just like the scales. Humans can’t eat them.”

“But there are so many,” Shiro stares at him, openly awed. “That must take a long time, since they’re so small and numerous.”

Hunk basks a little in Shiro’s admiration, even if it’s undeserved. “I didn’t do it. That’s someone’s job, and then they sell them like that. I can, and I have. It just takes a while, and I was hungry now.”

“That must be dedicated and detailed work.” Shiro nods slowly, still impressed. 

“It’s not bad when you know what you’re doing.” Hunk takes a bite of salmon to hide his smile. “Will you try the broccoli? I want to see what you think.”

Shiro picks up a florette and smells it as well. His head cocks to the side again, like he’s half puppy instead of half fish. Then he bites down on half, using his sharp teeth to rip off a piece. 

Oh, right. Predator. Sharp teeth. Vegetation must be difficult.

But Shiro doesn’t seem to mind. He smiles and tears into the piece, like a wild animal might rend flesh off the bone. It would be frightening, if it wasn’t a man in a tub with a piece of broccoli.

“This is good,” Shiro declares. “It is strange, to know you burnt my food and then put on rocks. But it is very effective.”

“Maybe I’ll try and get some raw fish we can all eat too.” There’s a pretty decent sushi place nearby. Rice probably won’t hurt Shiro, and he’ll likely enjoy the sashimi.

Shiro smiles again around a mouthful of salmon. “Yes, I would like that. But I would also like to try other human foods. Are they all like this?”

“Most of my dishes are better,” Hunk says, immediate and honest. Which, okay, he’s bragging a little, but it’s deserved. Is it even bragging if Hunk can back it up?

Shiro’s eyes go wide. Then his expression turns sly as he eats another piece of broccoli. “So you say. But this is already good. I am not sure there is more beyond that.” A smile curls at the edges of his lips.

Apparently Shiro is a sneaky little shit. But if he wants to dare Hunk into cooking, he’s on. “Well, I guess I’ll have to show you.”

Ducking his head, Shiro tries to hide his wide smile. “I look forward to your attempts.”

Cute. Someone that ripped and with jagged teeth should not be  _ adorable. _

Hunk polishes off his plate quickly, then sets it aside. He braces his feet against the bottom of the tub and gets comfortable. Sitting in a bathroom is hardly his greatest dining experience, but Shiro’s reactions make it more than worth it.

Shiro doesn’t keep up conversation. Instead, he applies himself to eating. Despite the lack of a fork, he’s meticulous when he eats, careful not to make a mess. His plate is completely cleared by the time he slows, and he still takes care to pick up the tiny pieces of broccoli that fell off the florettes. Clearly he was hungry, but his enjoyment is also on full display.

Once the plate is empty, Hunk picks up his own and holds out a hand for Shiro’s. “Here, I’ll take that.”

Shiro’s entire demeanor changes in an instant. He wraps around defensively around the plate, eyes flashing. For a moment, Hunk genuinely fears Shiro will growl or snap at him, so he snatches back his hand.

After a beat of silence, Shiro starts to unwind. He blinks rapidly, like something else had taken him over for that moment. After one last glance to make sure the plate is truly empty, he hands it over. The bottom drips with bathwater. “I apologize. That was uncalled for. There have been times I’ve needed to defend my food. Sometimes the habit remains.”

Is that a part of merperson culture? Or is that the result of whatever hurt Shiro?

“It’s fine,” Hunk says. His heart still pounds a little, but he doesn’t hesitate to take the plate. He drops it on top of his, then wipes his fingers on his pants to dry off the bathwater. “If you need more food I can get something.”

For a moment, Shiro looks tempted. But he shakes his head. “I’m no longer hungry. It was merely a reaction. But I am sorry to have frightened you.” He’s tense, jaw set, as he watches Hunk through his pale bangs.

He’s waiting to be asked why he reacts that way. Which means he knows it’s strange, and it’s probably not part of everyday life for merpeople.

Hunk’s stomach churns. He honestly does want to ask, because he’s never handled unanswered questions well. But he can already tell by Shiro’s posture that he’s not likely to get answers.

So he won’t ask about that.

“How  _ do _ you know English?”

Shiro’s eyes snap to Hunk’s. He opens his mouth and pauses. “I suppose that is curious, since I know so little otherwise.”

Hunk shrugs. He’s not wrong. “You speak English well considering I don’t think you’ve spent much time around any humans anymore, much less specifically English-speaking ones.”

For a moment, Hunk thinks Shiro will blow him off again. But then he smiles and looks away, avoiding Hunk’s eyes. “Humans are difficult to avoid,” he says. “But there was a time when I didn’t try. I wanted to understand more. So I would get close and just observe. It was difficult to avoid your boats, but I learned, and I knew I could stay under the piers and listen. Then I learned.”

Brows up, Hunk regards Shiro with new respect. Learning English by just sitting nearby and listening, with only minimal sight at best, had to be difficult. But there’s no denying that Shiro did so. 

The silence holds for a moment. Shiro flicks his fingers through the water, still not looking up. Likely there’s more to his story, but Hunk isn’t about to push further. Even getting this much out of him is a breakthrough.

“Wanted as in past tense?” He finally asks. “What changed?” Maybe Shiro had an unwelcome run in with some humans that inspired his current mistrust. He’d listed off some of humanity’s crimes before, but those have been true for a long, long time.

Shiro sighs and leans back in the bath. His tail shifts, making water churn dangerously in the tub, but he seems to have gotten good at keeping it from actually splashing out. Then he raises the tail up high in the air, shoulders rolling as he stretches in place. “I’d learned enough,” he says. “I could listen, but nothing explained to me why humans act the way they do. And then I was grown and there were more important ways to spend my time.”

“Like your friends,” Hunk guesses.

Shiro’s eyes snap to him, wary for a moment. But he relaxes as he settles his tail back down, getting comfortable again. “Yes.” He hesitates, then continues on. “Keith needed guidance. He’s a talented fighter and he has so much potential, but he has a short temper and doesn’t trust easily. Spending time with him was more important.”

Fondness lights up Shiro’s eyes. Hunk settles back against the wall, warmed just by how much Shiro clearly cares for his friend. Idly, he wonders if friendship is all that inspires so much happiness, but it’s really not his place to ask. He’s not really sure why he even cares. What business is it of his?

“What about the princess?” Hunk asks.

Shiro’s eyes fall short and he says. “I shouldn’t have mentioned her,” he mutters, sinking even lower in the tub. The water comes up to his nose as he sulks.

Hunk watches, making sure he’s not actively upset, before he shrugs. “Too late. I’m curious now. You’re friends with a princess?”

Shiro blows bubbles in the water as he pouts. But he re-emerges, sighing. “I see her that way. She’s brave and so smart, and I look forward to the day she can rule in peace.” Slowly, his eyes track over to Hunk and roam over his face. Whatever he sees must be good, because he continues. “There are those who oppose her. Ones who want to rule over all of our kind, not just a portion. I help her fight back.”

That actually explains a lot of Shiro’s scars and why there were dangerous people after him. He’s a high ranking soldier in a merpeople war. The idea is downright farcical, but the reality of it is sketched onto the very real person in front of Hunk.

“Sounds dangerous,” Hunk says.

Shiro nods. “It can be. But it’s important. The others would not rule like Allura would. They treat their people poorly and incite them to violence, but little more. No one deserves to live that way. I refuse to allow them to continue to grow.” His gaze is distant, locked in some moment in the past, but his chin is held high.

“Like a knight,” Hunk murmurs, mostly to himself.

“Hm?” Shiro cocks his head again, and the moment is lost.

“Something from stories,” Hunk says, because that’s easier than explaining. “I just think it’s admirable that you’re willing to stand up and fight. I could never do anything like that.”

Shiro’s brows rise up as he looks over Hunk. His eyes shine with sincerity as he leans forward. “I think you sell yourself short. When you were brought a wounded stranger, you gave him safety and care.”

No, Lance had done that. Hunk had been reluctantly dragged along for the ride. But Shiro is looking at him with such open regard that Hunk can’t bring himself to deny it. “That’s not the same.”

“Perhaps not, but it’s not less important. And certainly selfless. I defend my way of life and my home, along with the ruler I believe in. You protected a stranger.”

Hunk wraps his arms around his stomach and tries to not squirm at the praise. He’d spent most of the last two days wishing Shiro would hurry up and go away, so he definitely doesn’t deserve for the man to be so generous. “Feeding you and letting you use our bathtub isn’t a big deal.”

“It’s more than many would give,” Shiro says, suddenly very quiet. His gaze is distant again, aimed at Hunk but unseeing.

A shiver runs up Hunk’s spine. Shiro is speaking from experience.

Clearing his throat, Hunk toys with the bottom of his shirt. “Well, I hope we can help and you get back to your friends soon. I’m sure they’re worried about you.”

Shiro gives a dry bark of laughter. “I’m certain they are too, if they don’t believe me dead.” From the tilt of his head, that’s supposed to be funny. Luckily, he continues without needing Hunk to comment. “Keith especially. He’s protective.”

Considering the scars crossing over Shiro’s body, Keith probably has a point.

“Hopefully he won’t have to worry much longer,” Hunk says, rather than voice the thought. Then, because the conversation has gotten way too heavy, he forces on a smile. “So you learned English and pizza at those piers. What else?”

The topic change works. Shiro smiles and easily launches into a story about watching a drunken brawl next to a pier and how ungraceful he found human fighting. In the name of his species, Hunk defends their ability to fight when they aren’t plastered, and retrieves his laptop to show proof. As the internet often does, one video leads to more, and Shiro is fascinated by such an open, easily accessed look into the human world.

That’s how Lance finds them - shoulder to shoulder with the laptop between them, dangerously close to the bathtub full of water, an hour deep into cute animal videos.

“Lance!” Shiro greets, wide-eyed with wonder. “Do you know this cat?” He points to the kitten on screen, which toddles along the side of a bed until flopping off the side. 

Chuckling, Lance peers over the top of Hunk’s head to look. “Not that one in particular. Cute, though.”

“Yes,” Shiro agrees heartedly. “Play it again.”

Now well used to the demand, Hunk obligingly restarts the seven second video.

“If I’d known we were having a party in here I’d have tried to beg off my shift,” Lance says. He leans against the doorway, a fond smile curling at his lips. His eyes flick between Shiro and Hunk, specifically at the lack of space between them, and then his brows go up.

Hunk narrows his eyes over the top of Shiro’s head, warning him to shut up. They’re sitting this close so they can both view the screen, since Shiro can’t move anywhere. And frankly, Hunk doesn’t need to be reminded about the fact that he’s so close to someone half naked, thanks. He’ll make it awkward if he thinks about it too hard.

Thankfully, Lance only grins and lets it go. Instead he crowds in as well. “Has Hunk shown you any of our movies, yet?”

“Movies,” Shiro repeats quietly, brow furrowed in thought. Then he brightens. “Oh, those are stories, yes? I’ve heard about them. Beings with great power who fight off evil.”

Sounds like Shiro had overheard superhero movies or something similar. Hunk smiles and looks over at Shiro. “Some of them.”

“Are these the same stories that have your knights?” Shiro rests his left arm on the edge of the tub and sets his chin down. It puts his torso and tail at a twisted angle, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “You called me one. I’d like to understand.”

“Did he now?” Lance drawls. “You’d think if anyone here was getting called a knight, it’d be me. Since I’m the saving damsels.”

Shiro frowns and looks out the door into the hallway. “There are others here you’ve taken in?” Then he frowns. “You mean me, don’t you?”

“It’s okay, you make a good damsel. You’re very pretty.”

Shiro turns his stern gaze onto Lance. “I am not a damsel. I saved myself. You found me after.” Then he hesitates. “Not that I do not appreciate your aid. It was helpful, and I am glad other humans did not find me and bring me to your authorities. But I can care for myself.”

“We know you can,” Hunk says. “Lance is just teasing. If you want to watch a movie about knights, I think I can find some.” There has to be at least one decent King Arthur movie that isn’t Monty Python, right? Hunk quickly searches one up, and has Lance turn off the lights so they can all see better.

It’s far from the most comforting movie night Hunk’s ever had. The floor of the bathroom is cold and unyielding, the movie isn’t great, and the tiny screen is hard to balance for three people.

But Shiro watches, eyes wide and fascinated. When he asks questions, his voice is a whisper, as if he doesn’t want to interrupt the figures on screen. Each corny sword fight has him enthralled.

It’s the best movie-watching experience Hunk has had in a long time.

...Shit. He has a crush, doesn’t he?


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Hunk feels far less like death. He wakes comfortably early, with plenty of time to actually make breakfast.

Unfortunately, even if he feels better, he doesn’t look like it. His hair has a greasy sheen, and he’s all too aware he hasn’t washed more than his face and hands in the past few days.

It’s time for a shower.

Which is still going to be a problem.

First, Hunk cooks. He makes toasted english muffins to pair with the homemade jam in the fridge and a big batch of scrambled eggs, which thankfully is a quick process. The muffins he leaves out for later, but he takes a portion of the eggs with him into the bathroom for Shiro.

This time, Shiro isn’t already up. Once again, he’s sprawled out, his tail flopped over the toilet with the seat down. He lays on his side, as flat as he can manage on the bottom of the tub with his head half underwater. Seeing him so still and with his mouth mostly submerged makes Hunk’s heart jolt with instinctive worry, but Shiro seems perfectly comfortable. The bandages on his right arm have been unwound and set on the floor, safely out of danger of being dunked in Shiro’s sleep.

It can’t be the best sleeping conditions, but Shiro doesn’t seem to mind. Still, it reminds Hunk how much Shiro doesn’t really fit in this room. His top half is large for a human, and his tail from hips to fins has to be at least five feet. At some point, they need to get him somewhere he can move, or else he’s going to be too sore to swim away when he’s feeling better.

Hunk knocks on the doorframe. “Good morning.”

Shiro’s head snaps up, his wet hair tumbling behind him from the force. His left cheek is red from where he laid on it, and his eyes are bleary and wide. For a moment, he stills, and Hunk is reminded of the stereotypical mermaid pose - on a rock, hair flowing, chest out. Shiro holds himself the same way, except he looks a little like he was held upside down and dunked in the ocean a few times first.

Expectations vs reality.

Hunk bites back a smile, because it’ll only look like he’s laughing at Shiro. And, well, he is a little. But in a fond way. “Hey. I brought breakfast.”

Shiro blinks slowly, then smiles. It’s softened by sleep, but he looks happy to see Hunk despite the sudden wake-up call. “That sounds nice. Good morning,” he says, and his voice is a deeper rasp than usual.

For a moment, Hunk’s heart thuds painfully in his chest. This is the closest he’s gotten to a relationship or domesticity in years, aside from Lance. In another time and place, maybe Shiro is in his bed, sleep soft and raspy, and Hunk is bringing him breakfast in bed after he spent the night over.

Swallowing back the wistful thought, Hunk steps inside. “It’s a little bit of a bribe, too. I need to shower this morning. And unfortunately, I can’t do that with you in it.”

Shiro’s eyes focus, visibly waking up as he’s presented with that logistical problem. “Ah, yes. This is for cleaning yourselves.” He rubs over his cheek, wiping away the red mark. “You will need this shower quickly, correct? Or is your job like Lance’s, where he goes at different times?”

“My work is the same most days. But I’ll have two days off soon.” If Shiro doesn’t know about weekends, now really isn’t the time to explain. 

Nodding, Shiro frowns. “So we don’t have time to move me far.” He reaches down and pulls the plug, draining the water out. “Is it more important for you to get cleaned quickly, or for me to be out of the room? I understand that you are uncomfortable without your clothes, so I could leave.”

Hunk’s brows rose. “I didn’t know that was an option. I wasn’t even sure if you could be out of the water for long.”

There’s a flash of hesitation, like when Shiro had first mentioned the princess. Then he gives a bland smile. “Most of me has been out of the water all this time.” He waves the end of his tail. “It is difficult for me to move, and I am not my most comfortable in open air. But I will be fine as long as it is not long term.”

That’s an excellent point. Hunk had assumed Shiro had just been moving around and getting different parts of him wet as needed. He’d never seemed uncomfortable, aside from the limited space he had to occupy. “If you want to move out of this room, we can try. But you can stay in this room so long as you cover your eyes when I ask you to.”

Shiro nods comfortably. It’s the same arrangement they have when using the toilet, so he’s well used to it by now. “Then I will move.” He holds the lip of the tub firmly in his left hand, then shoves up with his tail. The force is enough to lift his hips over the side, and he lets himself fall onto the tiled floor. With a quick roll, he’s pressed against the wall. Like this, his right arm and gashed side are facing upward, letting Hunk see them both clearly.

Still bruised and healing, but better. Far better than they looked just two days ago.

“How are you feeling?” Hunk asks, eyes still on the wound. He tracks down the length of the tail to the ragged, silver length of the torn fin.

Shiro follows his gaze and sighs. “Recovering. Still sore, of course. But I don’t think you’ll need to worry about this for much longer.”

“Will you be able to swim?” Hunk asks. Lance had brought it up before, but at the time Shiro had been far less inclined to answer honestly. 

Shiro eyes his own tail, bending it so the tear is closer to the overhead lights. “It won’t be as easy,” he acknowledges. “But I only need to get home. Then... we’ll figure something out.” His tone is even, but Hunk can hear the hollowness of his confidence.

Shiro is a soldier in a merpeople war. It can’t be helpful if his swimming is affected, both from the missing arm and the damaged fin.

The answer to that might be sitting on Hunk’s desk.

Hunk wants to say something comforting, but he doesn’t want to get Shiro’s hopes up if it turns out they can’t even 3D print the design. “I’m sure you will,” he says instead. Then he leans down and hands over the plate. “I thought eggs were probably a safe bet. You still feel okay after the broccoli?”

“No ill effects.” Shiro again sniffs the eggs, head tilted. He picks up a curd and pops it in his mouth, then again brightens. “I’ve never had eggs like these. They’re also burnt?”

“Cooked,” Hunk replies immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. It’s defensive but he can’t help it. Hunk did not burn his food.

Shiro looks up, startled by the tone. “Cooked,” he repeats firmly. “I’m sorry. It’s very good.”

“You’re learning,” Hunk acknowledges, forcing himself to let it go. “Okay, close your eyes for a second. You can look again when the water starts running, and I’ll tell you when I’m about to come out.”

Shiro sets down the plate so he can obligingly cover his eyes. “Understood.” His voice is fond, laughter creeping just below the surface. It’s clear he finds the entire thing baffling, but at least he’s respectful anyway.

Hunk strips quickly, leaving his clothes piled on top of the sink so they’re not in danger of getting wet - Shiro is taking up most of the floor and still half dripping, after all. He hops in the shower and yanks the curtains closed around him, double checking that it hits the wall on both sides. Bad enough someone is in the room while he showers. Shiro doesn’t need to catch a glimpse, even when he didn’t mean to.

From there, actually getting clean is easy enough. Shiro thankfully doesn’t try to continue the conversation. The only sounds he makes are the scrape of his scales against the tiled floor and chewing.

Even so, it’s the most nerve wracking shower Hunk has had in a while. He’s never taken off his trunks when rinsing off after a pool or used the showers at a gym, so having a near stranger just outside the curtains is discomforting. Hunk rushes through washing, doing the bare minimum to feel clean. Then he calls for Shiro to cover his eyes again as he switches the faucet from shower to bath.

Stepping out, Hunk wraps a towel around himself and eyes his pajamas. He really doesn’t want to put them back on, but he didn’t bring his regular clothes. So instead he gives up and sighs. “You can look again.”

Shiro once again drops his hand, looking up at Hunk. Thankfully, he seems to find Hunk in a towel completely unremarkable, other than a slight tilt to his head. Instead he watches with the exact same bemusement he always wears when he has to cover his eyes. “All done, then?”

“Yeah. You need a hand getting back in?”

“No.” Shiro uses his left hand to pull himself closer to the tub, then once again heaves with his hips and tail. When he’s high enough, he tips himself back in, then squirms till he’s laying lengthwise. “See?”

That can’t be good for Shiro’s injuries, but frankly it’s a lot easier than trying to drag around an entire merman, so Hunk lets it go. “Good, okay.” He picks up the empty plate Shiro had abandoned.

“Do you need to leave, or may I ask something?”

Hunk pauses and looks over his shoulder. “I’ve got a bit. What’s on your mind?”

To his surprise, there’s a hint of color to Shiro’s cheeks. His tailfin twitches in the air, almost like the merman version of scuffing his foot on the floor. “I know where Lance goes for his job. I don’t know what you do. Can you tell me?”

Oh, Hunk had never said, had he? No wonder Shiro is curious. Why Shiro is shy about asking is a mystery, but Hunk is happy to answer. “I design prosthetics for those who need them,” he answers. “Or, at least, my company does. I hopefully will when I have more experience.” When Shiro only looks confused, Hunk explains. “For people whose bodies are hurt. I make things that can help them get around.”

Shiro’s eyes light up. “Oh! That’s very admirable.”

It should be. It  _ is, _ usually. But Hunk is all too aware of the price tag on their designs. It’s high at the best of times, and worse when someone is still growing and can’t even use it for long.

“I like helping out,” Hunk says, rather than get into it. Honestly, he doesn’t like dwelling on it himself, much less explaining the politics of capitalism to someone who might not know anything about money.

Shiro smiles again, his gaze soft. “Yes, I know.”

Hunk’s stomach squirms under that regard. Shiro never saw Hunk’s objections. He doesn’t know. Hunk doesn’t deserve his admiration.

Maybe he will soon. But not yet. 

Shiro hasn’t seemed to put together that Hunk might be able to help him. Until the fin is made and viable, Hunk isn’t going to say anything. He doesn’t want to get Shiro’s hopes up and then dash them. That warm look might never come back if he does.

Speaking of his project...

“Do you mind if I look at your tail?” Hunk asks, nodding to it. “I want to see how it's healing.”

Shiro stills, visibly nervous. But he nods and holds his tail up and to the side to make it easier to access. “If you’d like. I don’t think there’s much change. It’s not going to grow back anymore than my arm will.”

Gently, Hunk cups the end of the tail in both hands. The scales are a little dry feeling, and have the same glossy smoothness as a pearl - so long as he doesn’t rub the wrong way, at least. As he holds it, they shimmer purple under the direct light.

The left fin is indeed still just as ragged. The gradient never reaches white, stopping at deep silver forever. The other end drapes delicately, twitching occasionally as Shiro keeps his lower half raised.

Hunk takes some mental measurements, double checking his napkin math from yesterday. He thinks it might be an inch longer than he’d remembered, and comes to a thinner point. Miraculously, he thinks he got the curve almost identical, at least just at a glance.

Once he’s satisfied, he slowly lowers the tail down to the ground and lets Shiro relax. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not nearly so much.” Shiro turns on the faucet, letting the bathtub start to fill again. “At first it did when I touched it, but that’s dulled. It’s still sore, but less so than this.” He waves his still unwrapped stump. It’s red and inflamed, but not nearly as bad as just two days ago.

“I’m glad.” Hunk watches him, roaming from Shiro’s face to the tip of his tail. Then he snaps himself back into focus. Work. Getting dressed. “I’ll see you this afternoon again, okay?”

“Have a good day at work,” Shiro says politely, nodding to him.

Hunk leaves, mentally repeating his measurements. This project has to work, because Hunk wants to be deserving of Shiro’s warm smiles.

***

“You’re fired up,” Pidge comments, faux-casual. She rests her chin on her propped up palm, eyes sharp behind her glasses as she looks Hunk over.

Her sharp gaze does nothing to help the energy that’s been coursing through Hunk all day. He tries to stop fidgeting, but instead one leg starts to bounce. When he stops that, it feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his seat and through the ceiling. 

“A little.” It’s not like Hunk can deny it, after all.

Pidge’s brows go up further. “Mhmm. Super excited about saving some theoretical marine animals, huh?”

Dammit, that excuse had felt so good when Hunk came up with it. “Who wouldn’t be?” He tries for easy confidence, the kind that Lance exudes when he has a bad idea. Instead, his voice shakes, which is hardly convincing.

Nodding agreeably, Pidge doesn’t bother to hide her smirk. “Totally.” Her eyes track across the lab, to where the 3D printer is far-too-slowly building up layers of plastic for their first fin prototype.

The silence after is suspicious. Hunk stays tense, waiting for Pidge to ask. There’s no way she knows about Shiro. Hunk hasn’t said anything. But guilty sweat prickles on the back of his neck. What if she finds out and gets excited and tells people, or thinks it’s dangerous and calls someone, and then Shiro will get dragged away to some facility and not able to go home to his friends...

“It’s a fetish, isn’t it?”

Hunk chokes on his own spit.  _ “What?” _ He coughs out, face bright red from shock just as much as lack of oxygen.

“It’s fine,” Pidge says, shrugging. She really doesn’t seem to care, other than enjoying watching him squirm. “But this fin isn’t for any fish I know. It’s way too big. But I bet it’d be the right size for a person.”

The right clues, the wrong conclusion. But did she have to pick the most  _ humiliating _ option? Hunk bites his bottom lip. “It’s for a friend,” he says, then winces. Yeah, that absolutely sounded like the oldest excuse in the book. ‘Asking for a friend...’

Pidge’s smirk grows. “Sure, man,” she says, still sweet and overly casual. “For your friend who lives in Canada, I get it.”

Hunk goes silent, trying to come up with an explanation that doesn’t sound fake while also being totally fake. His silence just makes Pidge’s grin all the worse, so he gives up with a groan. “It’s really not for me.”

The sincerity in his voice makes Pidge pause. She taps her fingers against the table as she considers. “Oooh. That roommate of yours? What’s his face?”

Pidge has met Lance three or four times, when Lance stopped by for lunch and Hunk invited her along. He’d be annoyed by her lack of memory if she wasn’t notoriously shit at names.

It’s terrible of Hunk to just throw Lance under the bus. He did nothing to deserve it (at least not in a while). But Lance also doesn’t have to look Pidge in the eye almost every workday, and it keeps Shiro a secret.

“It’s not a fetish either,” Hunk says. “He just likes mermaids. His birthday is next month, but I can’t exactly say ‘hey, can I use company supplies to make my friend’s present on the cheap?’”

Pidge snickers appreciatively. “Yeah, that probably wouldn’t go well. But considering how much money they make and how much they pay us, the least they can do is let us play with the cheap 3D printed plastic.” The suspicion drains from her face as she grins. “I still don’t mind helping, even if it is a fetish.”

“Thanks,” Hunk says, giving her a smile. He really wishes she’d stop  _ saying _ that, but he appreciates the support anyway.

“No problem.” Pidge shrugs and leans back. “More interesting than anything else I’d be doing. I swear, the only reason they haven’t had me fetch coffee is because it’s bad optics for a female employee.”

Hunk makes a face, watching the machine move back and forth over their fin. “I can confirm that. Pretty sure they had me go pick up coffee orders about once a month.”

Pidge grumbles and slumps back, her head falling back over the top of the chair. “Ugh. So yeah, do whatever you want. We can still put the bullshit excuse in a write-up and submit it.”

“True. Maybe it’ll give them ideas for-” Hunk cuts off as the 3D printer lets out a string of notes and settles back into the starting position. He hops to his feet and picks up the fin. At the moment it lays in several separate pieces, all cast in neon-green plastic - it’s the least used color, and therefore the one that won’t be missed. But there are hinges on each side, and Hunk pushes them together so they click into place. When he picks it up, the fin bends and curls similarly to Shiro’s real tail.

Probably not perfect yet. But good enough to take to Shiro and test. 

“This is great,” Hunk says, beaming. He hands it over to Pidge so she can fiddle with it as well. “Seriously, thank you for the help. Your hinge design is great.”

Pidge gives the fin a hard shake, holding it at just the edge. Hunk’s heart catches and he reaches out in case it breaks, but the whole thing holds strong. “It’s not bad. We’ll have to see how it does in water at some point.”

“I was going to bring it home to test,” Hunk says. At Pidge’s curious look, he shrugs. “We live on a stretch of beach, so it’ll get used in the ocean. I want to make sure it holds up.”

“Ah.” Pidge hands the fin back. “Well, let me know how it goes.”

“I will.” 

Hunk looks down at the fin. It’s obnoxiously bright and the sizing might be completely off. But it’s real, and it’s a step toward getting Shiro home.

***

Waiting to go home is excruciating. Hunk has never been less interested in building a powerpoint, which is honestly saying something. He’s all too aware of the fin hidden in his bag, just waiting to go home.

It doesn’t help that he knows he really shouldn’t be using company property for this. There isn’t another option, but he’s on edge. Every time his boss walks past his desk Hunk has to resist tensing up and telegraphing his guilt.

Finally, finally, the hours tick away and Hunk is able to leave. He gives Pidge a beaming smile and a wave as he practically stampedes out the door. It’s Friday, which means he has a whole weekend to spend with Shiro and Lance and get this fin right.

When he gets to the apartment, Hunk takes the stairs two at a time and nearly drops the keys in his haste to get the door open. “Hello?” He calls.

“Hey.” Lance peeks his head over the top of the couch and gives a wave. A comedy show plays on the screen, but judging by the phone in Lance’s hand, he hasn’t fully been watching. “How was work?”

“Alright,” Hunk says. “Shiro been okay today?”

Lance turns fully around, resting his arms over the back of the couch as he faces Hunk. “Oh, sure. Who cares how Lance has been? Let’s ask after the merman.” His brows waggle pointedly.

Cheeks burning red, Hunk huffs. “He’s the one healing and stuck in the bathroom. But alright, how was your day?”

“Boring.” Lance grins at him. “Nah, I get it.” His brows waggle again. 

Hunk points at him and narrows his eyes, daring him to say another word. Lance holds up both hands in dramatic surrender, though his grin doesn’t even flicker.

“Did you guys eat lunch?” Hunk asks. He doesn’t want another repeat of accidentally starving Shiro.

Lance rolls his eyes and settles back properly on the couch. “Yeah. The eggs went pretty well, so I tried that again for lunch. But apparently I don’t make it like you.” He flutters his lashes, then dramatically huffs.

Hunk’s stomach flips with pride even as he frowns. “All I did was scramble them.”

“Oh, please. I know damn well I don’t cook as well as you.” Lance shrugs and looks down at his phone again. When he speaks again, his voice is lower and quieter. “Besides, I think he just likes it more from you.”

Hunk’s blush grows. He reaches around Lance to grab one of the couch pillows, then smacks him on top of the head with it. “Shush.”

“It’s true,” Lance sing-songs. “Hunk and Shiro, sitting in a tree. K-I-S--”

This time, the pillow catches him in the face. “Shut up!” Hunk hisses out, his eyes snapping over to the hallway. The walls are thin, and if Shiro is listening at all he can hear every word.

Lance laughs, completely unashamed. “Go on, go check on him.” He hums the rest of the children’s tune.

Shooting him a last glare, Hunk adjusts his bag and walks down the hall with as much dignity as he can. The bathroom door is closed as usual, so Hunk gives a quick knock before sticking his head in. 

Shiro is in the tub as usual, but only nominally. Instead, he has his left hand planted on the textured bottom. The rest of him is lifted up out of the water like a one-armed handstand. That would be difficult enough, but the ceiling isn’t tall enough for him to fully stretch up. So instead, Shiro has his tail curled forward in a graceful arc. All supported by his left arm.

Hunk is a strong guy. He’s the first one his friends call when it comes to moving, to his continued annoyance. But he’s never trained that strength, and Shiro’s casual display of balance and physicality is astonishing. Plus, watching the way his muscles strain, water running down them, is nice to look at.

Head snapping up, Shiro’s eyes go wide. “Oh!” He wobbles, then his arm gives. Thankfully, Shiro doesn’t just face-plant into the water, but he does have to twist himself and he comes down hard on his side. Water splashes over the edge of the tub and soaks the mat.

Before Hunk can worry, Shiro sits back up. His hair sticks wetly to his face, and his eyes are wide. “Oh no!” He looks over the edge of the tub, then wilts and looks up at Hunk. His expression is far too similar to a puppy for someone who just lifted the weight of a human torso and an absurd fish tail in one arm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Hunk says, swallowing against his suddenly dry mouth. He moves to the pile of towels Lance had bought to help sop up the mess. “Are you okay?”

Shiro nods sheepishly. “Yes, totally fine. I just wanted to exercise a little. Since I can’t swim or move around, I thought that would be okay.”

Hunk gives him a reassuring smile. “It’s really okay. Water won’t damage the floor right away. It has to sit for hours.”

“Good.” Shiro still frowns as Hunk wipes away the puddle. “I still don’t mean for you to have to clean up after me.”

“Shiro, honestly. Don’t feel bad. You’re right, you need to move around. It’s been days and you’ve been stuck in one spot. I’m just glad you feel well enough to exercise. Are your cuts okay?”

Twisting, Shiro shows Hunk his ribs. His arm still looks inflamed, but the cuts have faded and the bruising is yellowish green instead of purple.

Two days ago, the wounds had been fresh enough to make Hunk want to gag. Now they could be a week or two old.

At this rate, Shiro will be leaving soon.

“Just be careful, please,” Hunk says, eyes still on the wounds. He bundles up the towels and tosses them into the sink for now. “It doesn’t help anyone if you rip them back open.”

Shiro nods, sheepish again. “I won’t, I promise.” He settles back down and uses his fingers to comb his hair back out of his face. “How was your work? Did you help people today?”

Smiling, Hunk lets his bag fall from his back. “Not usually, but today I might have. I had an idea, but I wanted to see if it would work before I said anything. Can you hold your tail by me?”

Shiro’s brows go up. Obligingly, he twists and holds up his tail so the fin hovers in front of Hunk. “What about it?”

Without answering, Hunk digs through his bag and pulls out the printed fin. Then he holds it against the torn edge of Shiro’s tail, angled so he can see it. “It’s a prototype, so we’ll have to double check sizing properly. But if we can figure out a good way to buckle it onto your tail, I think it’ll hold up in the water.”

Shiro goes completely still and silent as he stares. His eyes are locked onto the neon green plastic.

Shifting, Hunk waits for Shiro to speak. When he doesn’t, he drops the fin down. “Is there a problem?” Only then does he remember Shiro’s disdain for plastic bags and human detritus in general. “If you don’t like it, I can melt it down and reuse it. I swear I won’t throw it away.”

“No!” Shiro suddenly goes stiff, eyes wide. “Please don’t. That’s- I just didn’t know you could even do that.” He twists his fin to the side. Hunk follows the motion, and the pieces of his prosthetic fin move on the hinges to match the curved shape. “Hunk, this is amazing. You made this?”

“I had a lot of help from a friend. She figured out how to make these so stable.” He taps on the edges. “I can’t promise it’ll take up to being hit hard, but it should keep up with your swimming, at least. You like it?”

Shro swallows hard and nods. His eyes are red rimmed as he finally meets Hunk’s gaze. “I can’t believe you did this. It’s amazing. Thank you, Hunk.”

Hunk smiles back, heart pounding frantically. “Well, wait to thank me when we’re sure it works. This is the first try. Why don’t I get something to hold it onto your tail for now and we can see how it works?”

Shiro’s mouth works, but all that comes out is a cracked noise. Instead he nods sharply. “Please.”

Hunk practically runs into his room, frantically grabbing the first couple of belts that will fit in the prosthetic fin’s strap hole. Within a few minutes, he has it on and tightened. The angle is awkward and the belts need extra holes to fit snugly. Hunk can already imagine the improvements he’ll make for next time.

But this isn’t about that. Not anymore. This is about Shiro.

Shiro holds the now complete tail up, eyes wide with awe. He lifts himself onto the rim of the tub so he can curl the fin down and into the water. The muscles work and he flicks the edge, churning the bathwater.

The prosthetic looks strange with its neon color and impromptu belt straps. The holes between the panels let some water through and the curve isn’t nearly as graceful as the natural side. But it holds together and it  _ works, _ pushing water effectively.

“Hunk,” Shiro says. His voice cracks around the name. “Thank you. I thought...”

Smiling, Hunk leans against the wall. His own eyes burn with the threat of tears. He’s never worked directly with a client before, but this is what he wanted from his job. He wants to  _ help _ people, to build devices that make them feel like Shiro does right now.

Maybe his current company isn’t where he’ll stay. But this is what Hunk wants to do with the rest of his life. He knows that now.

“I’m glad,” Hunk says, quiet and sincere. His voice is thick with the threat of tears - an inevitability, given how prone Hunk is to them. “You deserve to be able to swim comfortably again. I’m sorry you were hurt, and this doesn’t totally fix it, but... I hope it helps.”

“It does.” Shiro wipes under one eye with the back of his palm, then clears his throat. “You said this is just a test?”

Hunk nods, focusing again. “Yes. Does anywhere pinch or dig in? Or does anything not feel right when you move it?”

Shiro works the tail again and carefully describes a few areas of discomfort. Mostly, it’s from either the importu method of holding it on, or a few places where the plastic is printed into a sharp corner. For the next version, Hunk will either design it to curve more, or just file it down after. There’s also a couple of minor sizing issues, but overall Hunk’s guesses turned out to be pretty accurate.

“Does it move the water as well as the other side?” Hunk asked. The answer is probably no - the hinges necessitate a small amount of space between them for movement, which the water can escape through. But Hunk might be able to narrow that a bit.

Shiro cocks his head, thinking about it. His eyes go to Hunk, leaning against the edge of the tub, then down to his fin.

His tail undulates suddenly, making the tail dip below the water, then come up, curved to hold as much as possible.

All of it splashes up and catches Hunk in the face and shoulder.

Shiro lets out a peel of laughter, which almost immediately fades into muffled chuckles. “I’m sorry,” he says, sounding apologetic when he can speak through his amusement. “That’s mean of me. You’ve helped me. I just couldn’t help it.”

Slowly, Hunk wipes water off his face so he can open his eyes again. Then he gives Shiro a flat look.

The chuckles fade away. Shiro slumps under Hunk’s direct stare. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “You’ve been so nice, so I shouldn't have-  _ agh!” _

He cuts off as Hunk suddenly turns on the shower, drenching Shiro from above.

“Oh, you don’t know what you’ve started,” Hunk says. He reaches forward and ruffles Shiro’s long hair with both hands, tangling it into a wet nest of tangles. “But I’m going to finish it.”

“You think so?” Shiro’s eyes light up. He grabs Hunk by the shirt with one hand, holding him in place, and repeats the splashing movement from before. This time, a wave of bathwater crashes down on top of Hunk’s head. The grip also pulls him under the shower, making him even wetter.

It’s  _ on. _

Hunk lets out a war cry as he shucks off his shoes and climbs into the tub as well. It’s definitely not big enough for both of them, even taking the tail out of the equation. Hunk has to stay on his knees, straddling Shiro, as he uses both hands to splash water up. Shiro howls, his tail slapping loudly on the tiled floor. His single hand gives him a disadvantage, but his bucking tail makes it difficult for Hunk to keep up his assault.

Within minutes they’re both thoroughly soaked. Hunk is moments away from getting Shiro in a headlock when the door slams open.

Both of them freeze, Hunk with his arm around Shiro’s neck, Shiro with his tail raised high to smack it down on Hunk’s back. They both stare at the door.

Lance stands there, a water gun held high and a smirk on his face. “Did you really think you could get in a water fight without me?” He fires, wiggling the gun back and forth to get them both in the spray.

Hunk meets Shiro’s narrowed eyes and nods, getting a smirk in return. Then he slowly stands and walks toward Lance.

Lance continues to spray, but the smile slowly falls off his face when Hunk doesn’t so much as flinch. Before he can turn and flee, Hunk grabs him by the shirt and yanks him farther into the room, where Shiro is waiting.

With a powerful shove of his tail, Lance is hit with a wave of water.

“No fair!” Lance cries. He struggles, trying to get free of Hunk’s grip, but he can’t slip away. He can only sputter and shake his head as water drips down from his hair.

“What was that about including you?” Shiro asks, faux innocent.

Lance narrows his eyes. “Okay, you’re on.” He ducks and raises his arms, completely slipping out of his wet shirt and leaving it in Hunk’s tight grip. Then he dives for the tub, splashing until Shiro sputters and laughs.

Left with a limp, sodden shirt, Hunk watches the tussle with a small smile. There’s something satisfying about watching both of them roughhouse. It soothes Hunk, like pieces of his life are clicking into place.

“Okay, okay, okay!” Lance holds his hands up, still laughing. “I give. You win!”

Shiro tosses his head, making his hair flick back behind him. “I’m glad you recognize that.” He does release his grip on Lance’s arm, letting him pull back and shake his hair. Then he looks around and his eyes go wide. “Oh. I think we got a little out of hand.”

“A bit,” Hunk acknowledges. “Alright, truce all around. Let’s clean this up, please.”

With that, Hunk and Lance get to work drying the bathroom out again. Shiro sits in the tub, refilling what was lost in the fight. He watches, eyes sharp and shoulders slumped, clearly guilty he can’t help despite his participation.

“When do you head out?” Hunk asks, glancing at Lance.

Lance clicks his tongue and fishes his phone out from his pocket. “Uh, half an hour or so? Why?”

“Just curious.” He collects both their towels. “I need to run to the store for groceries in the next day or so. I figured if you were around for a bit, I’d run and get them now.”

Shiro sits up straighter, frowning. “You can both be gone at the same time. I can handle myself for a while.”

“I feel better if someone’s nearby,” Hunk says. When Shiro frowns, Hunk shrugs. “If your cuts tear back open or you’re hurt, you can’t get help without us. And it’s not like I can take you along shopping.”

Shiro blinks slowly, then looks sharply away. “I suppose not,” he says reluctantly. “But it would be interesting.”

“Yeah, it’d be fun.” Lance runs fingers through his hair, trying to air out the strands faster. “You could see a little more of humanity than under a pier or stuck in our bathroom.”

Shiro looks at the hallway, as if he could see through the walls and out into the world. “Maybe someday,” he says.

Hunk doesn’t see how, unless all of merpeople-dom gets revealed to humanity, and then they use a wheelchair or portable pool of some sort. “Maybe. If nothing else, it would be nice to get your opinion on what fish you’d like to eat. For now I’ll get a few kinds and we’ll experiment.” He’ll see what’s on sale. If nothing else, eggs seem to be a good supplement for Shiro’s diet when seafood is too expensive.

Elbowing Hunk, Lance smiles. “I have off tomorrow too, so we can go grab whatever.”

“Thank you,” Shiro says. He rests his hand in his lap, still soggen and a hint guilty as he stares up at them. “You really don’t need to keep an eye on me. I’ll be alright for a few hours alone. I survived before you.”

“And look what happened,” Lance drawls. At Shiro’s flat look, he sighs. “We know. It’s okay. But you’re healing, and it’s nice to have someone on hand. Besides, like, I dunno. It makes me feel better if one of us is here if some government goons try to break down the door.”

Shiro stills, eyes wide. “Is that likely?”

“Not even a little.” Hunk shoots Lance a flat look, who shrugs. “It’s no rush anyway, alright? It’ll keep for tomorrow. For now, how about we see how you feel about chicken?”

Slowly, Shiro nods. “Will it taste like the salmon?”

“Better.”

Finally, Shiro cracks a smile. “I will have to see that for myself.”

Lance snorts and picks up his shirt. “Alright, this is my cue to go dry off and change. You too have fun.” As he saunters out, he once again starts humming the ‘sitting in a tree’ children’s rhyme.

Hunk glares at Lance’s back, but he can’t say anything without Shiro getting curious.

Damn him.

##  ***

“-nk?”

Hunk pauses, pulling his headphones off and glancing around instinctively. His room is empty and his phone is dark. So where did that noise-

“Hunk?”

Oh, the hallway. Specifically, Shiro in the bathroom.

Untangling himself from his headphone cord, Hunk steps out of his room and sticks his head into the bathroom. Inside, Shiro lays sideways, his tail curled over the edge of the tub. The prosthetic fin is still carefully placed on the mat in front of him, where it can be easily accessed. The tip of his tail twitches anxiously in the air, and his shoulders and tense.

“Is something wrong?” Hunk asks. He steps in fully, his heart beating faster. Shiro seems  _ nervous _ . Did something happen?

Shiro’s cheeks go faintly pink. “No, not really. I just...” He looks away, wincing. “I’m sorry, this is silly. You can go back to what you were doing.”

Okay, now Hunk’s curious. He steps in further and kneels down next to the tub. “Are you hungry? I don’t mind making a snack.”

“No, nothing like that. It’s really nothing important. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” Shiro stares down at his lap. But when Hunk doesn’t budge, he sighs. “I just feel... I was wondering if you minded if I moved around your home more, that’s all.”

Hunk’s eyes go wide. “You can do that?” Sure, he’s seen Shiro get in and out of the tub with surprising ease. But that’s not nearly the same as moving around on carpeting.

“I think so. It won’t be fast, but I should be able to get around a little.” Now that Hunk hasn’t had a negative reaction, Shiro straightens up and meets his eyes again. “I won’t damage anything or get your home wet. I simply want to move around more.” He arches his back until his spine cracks. “This space is confined. I only want to be able to stretch out fully.”

Maybe Hunk should have expected this, given how he’d seen Shiro exercising earlier. Clearly he’s cooped up and needs some more recreation. Hell, he’s been locked in this small room with nothing else to occupy himself for days now. No wonder he’s bored.

“Of course you can,” Hunk says. “As much as you like. Maybe just give me a heads up so I’m not startled to see you somewhere else. But you’re not locked in here, especially if it’s making you uncomfortable.”

Brightening, Shiro smiles. “I appreciate that.” He nods to the counter. “May I use one of the towels to dry off?”

Hunk stands and retrieves a towel. When he’s out of the way, Shiro deftly pushes himself out of the tub and onto the floor again. Once down, he rolls onto his stomach and balances on his stump to hold his chest up. He takes the towel from Hunk and carefully dries himself off, including his hair.

When he’s done, Hunk finds himself staring. Shiro’s hair is straighter when semi-dry, falling down in stark black and white curtains arounds his face. It looks silky to the touch. Hunk wants to reach out and brush through it, just to see.

Instead, he takes the towel back and opens the door. “Do you need help with anything?”

“No,” Shiro says. He tosses his head to get his hair out of his face, then army-crawls forward as best he can with only one full arm. The action wouldn’t be enough to move him, except his tail swings from side to side like a snake. He scoots forward, laboriously but with surprising speed.

“If you go left, you can see the kitchen and living room,” Hunk offers. He follows as Shiro obligingly moves that direction. “When you’re done, we can watch another movie. The couch is comfortable and you can stretch out better.”

Shiro looks back over his shoulder to smile at Hunk. Now that he’s on the carpet, moving takes more effort. He doesn’t seem bothered by that. His cheeks are flushed and he seems absurdly more relaxed now that he’s active. “I’d like that,” he says.

Hunk watches him move into the kitchen, where he slides more easily on the tile. He wanders through, peering curiously at whatever he can see.

If this is going to keep happening, Hunk is going to need to clean under the counters and appliances. Thank god he swept up a few days ago, or else the floor would be disgusting.

Shiro does another lap around the kitchen, which is barely long enough for him to fit. He’s still looking around, but at this point it seems to be purely for the exercise.

While he’s occupied, Hunk digs through his and Lance’s video collection. He goes back and forth for a while, but eventually decides animation will make it easier to understand the non-reality of movies. The King Arthur movie before had been okay, but it had been difficult to balance the historical aspect with the pure myth. So for tonight he picks up  _ Atlantis: The Lost Empire _ and hopes that’ll at least amuse Shiro.

By the time Hunk puts the movie on and settles on the couch, Shiro has made his way into the living room. He pauses, looking over the coffee table magazines and peering at the books on their shelves.

“Can you read English?” Hunk asks. He had assumed not, which is why he hasn’t brought Shiro books to keep him company. But since he speaks it, he definitely should have asked.

Shiro shakes his head. “No, I’m just curious. They’re colorful.” He runs a finger along the length of a dictionary, admiring the printed gold lettering before moving on.

He does a few laps around the couch and coffee table before finally stopping. Glancing between Hunk and the space next to him, Shiro tilts his head. “I’m not sure it’ll fit both of us. I’ll stay down here.”

“No, of course not. You should be on the couch.” Hunk moves to get up, but then pauses. “Actually, would you be comfortable with your tail in my lap? I’d like a closer look for the next attempt at building a tail fin.”

Shiro pauses, looking unsure. But then he nods. It takes some effort for him to drag his torso onto the other side of the couch, but then he lifts his tail easily and gently rests in over Hunk’s knees.

The weight of him is heavy, but Hunk isn’t bothered. Instead, he lets Shiro get settled in, comfortably stacking pillows behind his back to help prop him up, then starts the movie.

It only takes a few moments for Shiro to get absorbed. At first he questions why the humans and environments look strange, but he quickly accepts that they’re drawings. Then he has questions about the details and context, but after is content just to watch the story start to play out.

By the time the submarine sets sail for Atlantis, Shiro is totally engrossed. While he watches, Hunk lets his fingers ghost over Shiro’s tail again. This time, he takes photos of the torn tail with his phone, including his hand for scale. He’ll be able to take more precise measurements that way without needing to go get a ruler. He’ll delete them later, but right now it’ll help.

Even when he’s finished taking notes, Hunk doesn’t stop touching. In the lighting from the windows, purple flecks shine in the otherwise black tail like glitter flakes. The natural shifting of muscles below creates dimension, highlighting the bulk and strength of such an otherwise graceful and delicate looking appendage.

“Pfft.”

The sudden comment jolts Hunk out of his half-daydreaming thoughts. “Huh?”

Shiro waves a hand to the screen as the characters enter Atlantis for the first time. “It’s silly, is all.”

“The city?” Hunk watches the movie, trying to see it with fresh eyes. “I guess so. This is a cartoon, though, remember? It’s all silly.”

“I know,” Shiro pushes back comfortably on the pillows, smiling softly. “I still find it funny. This is what you think Atlantis looks like? Or  _ sounds, _ goodness. Of course we speak a weird human language hybrid. Why wouldn’t we?”

Hunk freezes. Slowly, he turns his head, finally looking over Shiro’s face.

Is he.... Is he saying...?

Shiro catches his eye and smirks.

“You’re screwing with me!” Hunk slumps back, groaning. “Jeez, you really had me going for a second.” Then he pauses. “You  _ are _ screwing with me, right?”

Shiro’s grin grows. “Maybe.”

Okay, that does it. “You are. You  _ so _ are. Mean!” Hunk prods him in the tail, which only makes Shiro chuckle. “After showing you this movie out of the kindness of my heart.”

Holding up his hand, Shiro outright laughs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

Hunk pouts outrageously at him, but then lets it go with a dramatic sigh. “I suppose I’ll forgive you.” 

That settled, Hunk goes back to watching the tail.

“Then again, they did a good job with the look of the Princess. Very accurate, saide from the legs.”

Hunk’s head snaps up. He goggles at Shiro, then smacks him gently on the chest. “Enough!”

Shiro breaks into laughter again, head falling back over the pillows. His right arm brushes against the back cushion in natural counterbalance. The end is red, but not nearly as swollen as when Hunk first bandaged it. Now the wound still looks painful, but not fresh.

“May I-” Hunk cuts himself off.

Picking his head up, Shiro blinks at him. “Hm? May you what?”

“See your arm.” The words come out so quickly they nearly blend together. “I just mean... normally when I make prosthetic limbs like your tail fin, it’s arms or legs. They take a while, and they’re not really made for the ocean. But if I got a chance to look, maybe I could come up with something? Not before you leave, but.... I don’t know. It’s just a thought.”

Shiro’s mouth hangs open. Finally he swallows, then scoots forward so his arm is more easily accessed. It means he is laying out flat on his back instead of propped up, but that doesn’t seem to bother him. “You think you could make a new arm too?”

“I don’t know,” Hunk says. “Genuinely, I don’t. I’m trying to do this quietly, and the tail fin was much easier to hide. And I definitely would need to get some help from a friend of mine. But I trust her. Completely. She helped with the tail even if she didn’t know why.”

Shiro’s expression tightens. He drums his left fingers nervously on his chest, eyes sliding away. Then he took a deep, steadying breath. “If you trust your friend, then I’ll trust them,” he says, though his voice was shaky. “But please be careful. No one at all should know. And I’ve already told you so much more than I should have.”

Hunk gently wraps his hands around Shiro’s right forearm. The skin below is clammy, and the heat of Hunk’s palms made Shiro jolt. “I promise,” Hunk says, quiet but firmly. “I won’t put you in danger, I swear. I want to help you.”

Color comes to Shiro’s cheeks. He smiles shyly. “Thank you. I know you won’t. I just worry.”

“I understand.” Does Hunk ever. Worrying is his main occupation. 

Hunk takes a few more pictures of the arm, once again including his hand for scale. This is definitely a larger project to tackle, and it will take much longer. Far more time than they have before Shiro will leave.

But if Hunk has an arm for him, maybe Shiro will have a reason to come back?

“Thank you.”

Hunk pauses, hand still wrapped around Shiro’s forearm. “Hm? For what?”

“Being willing to try.” Shiro nods to Hunk’s phone. “Especially when you’ve already done so much. Not just the tail fin, but taking me in and feeding me and protecting me. I don’t take any of that lightly.”

Hunk’s stomach churns. “Well, thank Lance for that.” At Shiro’s curious look, he sighs and looks away. He should have shut up, but maybe it’s time to be honest. “I didn’t want to take you in. Not at first. I had no idea about merpeople and I had no idea how to help treat your wounds. When I came home from work, you were a total surprise. It was Lance who brought you home and wanted to heal you.”

“I see.” Shiro tilts his head, looking over Hunk’s face.

Hunk refuses to meet his eyes, watching his lap and Shiro’s tail instead. “I was scared. I’m glad we helped you now. I just... I don’t want to take credit for what Lance did. He’s the person you should thank.”

“I will,” Shiro says, very gentle. “But I don’t think your worry was unfounded. I wasn’t happy to be here either, if you remember. I was cold to you. But despite that and despite your misgivings, you did help me. My healing wounds and the tail fin are proof of that. I don’t admire you less for your initial reaction. I admire your help more because you overcame that.”

Running his fingers over the dark scales, Hunk takes a deep, shaky breath. He slowly lets it go, then nods. The fear and guilt he’s been feeling finally relaxes, not gone but not so choking. “Thank you.”

“It’s true.”

The movie continues to play, filling the silence between them.

“I...” Shiro clears his throat, hesitating. “I told you before I used to be interested in humans. But life continued on, and... it’s been a while since I spent any time near the shore. In that absence, it was easy to stop thinking of humans as individuals and instead as... well, as a threat. A force like a sickness or weather. Destruction.”

Hunk’s stomach sinks. He can easily understand how humanity could come across that way. “I’m sorry. We haven’t given you much reason to think otherwise.”

Shiro shrugs one shoulder. “Perhaps. But I should have known better. And... the group fighting against Princess Allura. The Galra. Part of what they want is to unite all of us. They don’t believe humans have any right to the oceans. If they had their way, we’d take them back.”

Hunk bites back his immediate comment - that it would be difficult for merpeople to stop humans. Normal fishing boats would have trouble from an attack, but large trade barges? Military ships? Submarines? What could a bunch of admittedly strong merpeople do about that? But it wasn’t the point, so he doesn’t voice it. Instead, he nods, encouraging Shiro.

“I object to most of what the Galra want. I don’t like the way they treat their subjects, or how they feel entitled to ruling all of us. The secrecy we’ve lived under has served us fine so far. But fighting back... on bad days, it’s been appealing.” Shiro looks up, eyes wide and sincere. “But you reminded me. You showed me humanity really can be good. Both of you, but... your entire job is helping other humans get around. You fed me and kept me comfortable. You invited me into your life, and the friendship both of you share. I appreciate that, not just for now, but for reminding me to see individuals.”

Hunk swallows hard against the emotion clogging his throat. “We’re still part of humanity. We could do better. We could work harder to push back against how we hurt the ocean - the whole planet, really. But I’m glad to help, even in little ways like that.” He clears his throat. “I’m not always the best person I can be. But having you here has made me want to be better. So thank you too, Shiro.”

Smiling, Shiro reaches out and places his left hand over Hunk’s right. He squeezes warmly.

They don’t speak after that. The movie plays out, and Shiro enjoys the ending even if they have to rewatch the parts he missed.

Nothing needs to be said, not right then. They understand.

When he goes to bed that night, Hunk holds his right hand up above him. He can still feel where Shiro held his hand like a tingling brand.

“Stop it,” Hunk whispers to himself. “Don’t do this.”

His heart doesn’t listen. It continues to beat fast. Faster still when he thinks of Shiro, comfortably back in the tub.

Curling on his side, Hunk holds his hand against his chest. He falls asleep like that, still feeling Shiro’s aftertouch.


	4. Chapter 4

##  Chapter Four

Hunk is sitting at the kitchen table with his phone when Lance stumbles out of his room.

“Morning,” Hunk greets, sitting up straighter. He doesn’t bother to disguise his surprise. It’s not even 9 am, and he rarely sees Lance up this early if he doesn’t have a shift.

Lance grunts a greeting and shuffles over to the fridge. He pours himself a glass of orange juice and slumps into the seat across from Hunk. 

Well used to this ritual, Hunk goes back to his phone. It’ll be a few minutes before Lance is awake enough to engage.

When Lance polishes off the rest of his glass, he sets it down with an unnecessarily loud thunk. “Hey,” he says, his voice still sleep-rough. “Yeah, I figured I might as well get up. I wasn’t sleeping well.”

Hunk makes a sympathetic noise in the back of this throat. “That sucks. Everything okay with work?” 

“Oh, yeah. Nothing like that.” Lance flaps a hand. “More about, you know...” He gestures behind him at the hallway.

Brows jumping up, Hunk tilts his head. “You’re worried? Did you tell anyone?” Does Lance have some reason to think someone’s going to come asking after Shiro? There’s no where they can  _ go _ if that’s the case. Unless they want to put Shiro on Lance’s boogie board and drag him along after them in the morning sunshine.

Immediately, Lance holds up both hands. “No! No, no. I haven’t told anyone. It’s not about that. I’ve just been thinking about it, you know?” His voice drops. “It turned out okay. Shiro is a cool guy. But it wasn’t really until after he was here that I started to worry, you know? He hasn’t said much about those other merpeople, but what if I had grabbed one of those guys and just brought them into the apartment? Or if his wounds got infected or worse and he was suffering in our bathtub.”

Hunk’s brows rose. He hadn’t known Lance was worrying about those things. He’d pretty much waved it off when Hunk had the same objections originally. Since then, Lance had been proven right.

Lance wilts under Hunk’s stare. “I know, I know! You told me so. I just didn’t really think about those things until I’d already done it and you were going on about how stupid it was.”

Wincing, Hunk reaches over and pats his shoulder. “I can’t say I didn’t wish you thought of this stuff before you brought an unconscious man home,” Hunk says, because, well, it’s true. “But... you were right. I wouldn’t have helped, and who knows what would have happened to Shiro? He’s been so thankful, and I’ve spent this whole time thinking I didn’t deserve it. You’re the one that took a risk on him. I was just along for the ride.”

“I pulled you onto the ride with me, without telling you where we were going,” Lance mutters. But he does perk up under the reassurance. “You’re not mad?”

“I’m not sure you should do it again,” Hunk says. “The next merperson might not be so nice, you’re right. But no, I’m not. I’m glad we helped him. And maybe we can do more than just get him healthy enough to swim home.”

Lance nods slowly. He glances over his shoulder and drops his voice even lower. “Probably won’t be long now. You’ve seen it, right? He should have been healing for at least a couple of weeks, but he’s close to ready.”

“Yeah.” Hunk’s hand slides off Lance’s shoulder and onto the table. “Honestly, I’m surprised he hasn’t asked us to take him back. He was moving around the living room fine yesterday and I caught him doing a handstand before that.”

Whistling, Lance leans back in his chair. He toys with the empty glass, rocking it from side to side on the edge. “I know he’s strong, but damn. One handed, too.”

Hunk nods, remembering the moment. Shiro’s muscles working, his arm straining, water running down his abs and chest...

Lance coughs pointedly, then chuckles when Hunk snaps back into the moment. His amusement slides away, replaced with worry. “You going to be okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Lance shrugs. “You guys have gotten pretty close in the past couple of days, you know? I teased because, I mean, I’ve seen you looking. Who could blame you? But are you going to be okay when he’s home?”

“I know.” Hunk flashes a thin smile. “I’ve never forgotten. And it’s hard not to be a little fascinated. He’s a merman and he comes from a totally different culture that I want to know more about. You know how I am about mysteries.”

Lance snorts. Loudly. “I remember you staying up all night to finish that stupid puzzle.”

“It was  _ unfinished.” _ Hunk’s tone pitches up into a whine. He catches himself and clears his throat before Shiro can hear. Lance has heard far worse, so he doesn’t count. “But I always knew how this was going to end. I’ve never had expectations.”

Lance finally sets his cup down properly. “Knowing it’ll end soon doesn’t mean you can’t catch feelings.”

“It’s been three days. I’ll be fine.” Hunk picks up the cup and takes it to the sink to rinse out. He ignores Lance’s noise of protest. “Let’s worry about how we’re going to get him to the beach when he’s ready, hm?”

“Easy. Same way I got him here. It’ll be easier when he can help and I’m not going up stairs.” Lance shrugs. His eyes track Hunk as he puts the glass away. “When did you want to go to the store?”

Hunk dries off his hands, considering. “I didn’t really have a set time. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be up for a while.”

“That makes two of us,” Lance mutters bitterly.

Snorting, Hunk nods. “A couple of hours? I thought I’d run laundry first. But we can leave earlier if you want.”

Lance stands up and stretches. “That’s fine. Just let me know whenever. In the meantime, I think I’ll lay down a bit.” He gives a quick wave as he steps into the living room.

Then  _ screams. _

Hunk jolts like his heart stopped in his chest. Instinctively, he yanks his chef’s knife out of the block and braces himself. “What?” Hunk demands, voice pitched up in panic. “If it’s a spider again, I swear to  _ God, _ Lance...”

“Shit!” Lance breathes. He slumps against the hallway wall, dramatically catching his chest. “You- warn us first!”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says. His voice is too clear to be coming from the bathroom. “Did I do something wrong?”

Oh, if Shiro is out, that could explain it. Maybe his somewhat eerie army-crawl-snake-squirm frightened Lance. It could look vaguely horror-movie-esque in the dark and if there was no warning.

Lance makes a choking noise. “I just didn’t expect to find a  _ naked stranger _ in my hallway, dude.”

...What? Hunk puts the knife away and walks over, officially curious.

“I’m not a stranger,” Shiro says, sounding wounded. “I’ve been here for days.”

“Yeah, see, that doesn’t help with the  _ naked _ part!”

Hunk finally steps into the hall.

Then he freezes.

Shiro is standing there.  _ Standing, _ on two legs that match the rest of his skin. Like his torso and arms, there are lines of scales along his hips and knees, but otherwise that could be a human man in front of him. Including parts that Hunk is absolutely sure Shiro did not have that morning.

Clapping a hand over his eyes, Hunk squeaks. He feels his cheeks burn bright red. 

Shiro sighs. “I don’t understand,” he says plainly. “You have seen me without clothes so far. This has never bothered you before. What’s different?”

“It was different when you had a tail,” Lance says. His voice is strangled, but he’s trying gamely to actually explain why. “And you didn’t look human down there. It’s not super appropriate for you to walk around like that. Here, let me...” He steps away, then pauses. “Um, can you, like, give me a little room? I don’t want to brush anything.”

“Yesterday you both sat on my tail,” Shiro points out, but his tone is resigned. He shuffles to the side and lets Lance pass. “Why are humans so shocked by their bodies?”

“It’s just private,” Hunk says, trying to keep his voice even. He keeps his hand slapped over his eyes because he’s not completely sure what he’ll do if he lets himself look.

“Here.” Lance returns, voice still a little strangled. “At least wrap this around yourself for now, okay?” He pauses, then adds, “You have a nice ass considering you didn’t have one at all this morning.”

Hunk squeaks again. “Lance!” He hisses out, scandalized.

“Thank you,” Shiro replies, sounding bemused. There’s the sound of cloth, and Lance has to tell Shiro how to hold the fabric together. 

“It’s safe,” Lance reports. Despite his earlier scream, now he sounds like he’s holding back laughter.

Slowly, Hunk drops his hand. Shiro is still in the hallway and he still has  _ legs, _ somehow. But now he has a towel wrapped around his waist. He looks between them both and holds out his stump arm in a grand gesture. “Is the nakedness really the more shocking change?”

“It’s hard to look past,” Lance says, shrugging cheerfully. He prods Shiro on the side of the hip, which gets him a flat look. “That’s definitely a leg. So, uh... yeah. The hell? You could do this the whole time?”

Shiro ducks his head, sheepish now. “No. This spell is tiring and takes concentration. While I was in pain or unconscious it was not possible. And then after...” His shoulders slump further as he stares down at his human feet. “Showing humans we can hide among them is dangerous. I have never revealed what I can do to any humans before.”

Spell.

_ Spell. _

Somehow, having a merman became semi-normal. Hunk could wrap his head around an intelligent species hiding in the ocean and avoiding detection. Only, what, 5% of the ocean had been explored, or something similar to that?

But a spell means magic, and that means magic is  _ real. _

Suddenly, Shiro’s comments about merpeople attacking ships makes more sense. People with tails and weapons couldn’t bring down an airplane carrier. But maybe  _ magic _ can.

“Then why...?” Hunk bites his bottom lip. He tugs at the bottom of his shirt, trying to process all the pieces slotting into place. “Will you get in trouble for telling us?”

Shiro raises his chin and sets his shoulders. “I could,” he says. “That would be well within Princess Allura’s rights to punish me. It is her family’s decree that encourages us to keep the secret. But I  _ trust _ you. And I want to see more of your world. You have cared for me when you could have abandoned me, then asked for nothing in return. So instead I give you my secrets.”

“Oh.” Lance covers his mouth with a hand, eyes wide. His gaze catches Hunk’s. Lance’s impulsive act of kindness keeps growing larger and stranger. Now they might be the only two humans to know about this ability.

Hunk is terrified of that responsibility. But he’s also honored.

Shiro steps forward, his eyes firmly on Hunk. His steps are tentative, but grow stronger. His right foot - which is whole, though his arm and sides are still wounded - moves awkwardly, giving him a noticeable limp.

“I want to come with you,” Shiro says, his dark eyes startlingly clear and direct. “I want to see more of the human world and to spend time with you. May I?”

Hunk’s heart pounds. Over Shiro’s shoulder, he can see Lance physically holding back a comment.

“I’d like that,” Hunk says. He knows it’ll be complicated, maybe even dangerous. He knows they’re risking Shiro being discovered for a silly erand. But right now he doesn’t care. Shiro wants to come, and Hunk wants him there.

Simple as that.

Then Hunk winces. “But you’re going to have to wear real clothes. Stores won’t let you in without them.”

Shiro’s bottom lips juts out in that now familiar pout. “Are you sure they would notice?”

“Shiro, buddy, everybody would notice you walking around like this,” Lance says, now outright laughing. “Sorry.”

Shiro eyes Hunk’s pants dubiously. Even knowing he’s looking at the material and not at what’s underneath, Hunk is a little insulted.

“He could wear a skirt?” Hunk offers. “That way it just hangs off your hips instead of wrapping around you. Would that be better?” There’s a distinct possibility people will stare, no matter how unfair that is. But no one is likely to see Shiro and think ‘merman in disguise’. As much as Hunk would prefer a low profile, a skirt is probably less noticeable then someone walking around like he wants to rip his pants off in public.

Wrinkling his nose, Shiro considers. “It would not be so constricting, I suppose.”

“Yeah, little problem with that.” Lance gestures to his room. “I don’t have any skirts. Do you? And even if I did, I don’t think I own anything that’ll fit.”

Oh, that’s true. Unless they want to go out and buy Shiro new clothes for the whole couple of days he’ll need them, they’re limited by whatever is already in the apartment.

“Here,” Hunk says, heading to his room. “Let’s see what I have. I probably have some loose fitting pajamas that you’ll find comfortable.”

Shiro nods and follows along. He takes each step carefully, either because of his unfamiliarity with legs or because of his limp. Once in Hunk’s room, he carefully sits down on the bed.

Hunk starts to dig through his dresser drawers, looking for a pair of pants or shorts Shiro won’t find objectionable. He pulls out a pair of boxer shorts that are usually too tight on him, then holds them up. “Here. These go under your clothes.” He tosses them over.

Shiro snags the boxers out of the air with ease, then holds them up. “You wear clothing under your clothing?”

“Yes. It’s more comfortable that way.”

Shiro’s pout deepens, outright rebellious now. “If it’s uncomfortable, why wear them at all?” He asks.

“Because we have to.” Hunk shakes his head and goes back to searching, not interested in having this argument several times over, especially not when he can hear Lance’s snickering in the hallway.

After some searching, Hunk finds a pair of silky pajama bottoms. The purple and black pattern reminds Hunk of Shiro’s scales, which might make him more comfortable. But most importantly, it has a drawstring, so they should be able to keep it on his hips.

“Here,” Hunk says, tossing that back as well. He sees Shiro catch it from the corner of his eye. “Try that on, and pull the strings tight until it stays up. I should have a shirt that matches.” It’s far easier to find a simple black shirt. It might not even be large on Shiro, given how broad he is.

Prize in hand, Hunk turns around and hands it over. Shiro is standing now, the drawstrings of the pants pulled tight. He gives Hunk a frustrated look. “It won’t stay.”

“You have to tie it.” Hunk takes the strings in one hand and holds out the shirt with the other. While Shiro puts it on, Hunk ties the drawstrings together. He does his very best not to think about how intimate this is, and what’s just under the silky fabric.

When he’s done, Hunk steps back to look at the whole package. Frankly, Shiro looks far more like he’s about to go to bed than to the store. The word might be ‘cozy’, if he didn’t also have the same confused, frustrated posture of a cat forced into boots. But he won’t attract extra attention just for his appearance.

Well, mostly. But there’s not much Hunk can do about Shiro attracting looks when he has a face and body like that. 

Just as Hunk starts to nod, he catches sight of the boxers still on the bed. He frowns at them, then puts his hands on his hips. “Shiro.”

Shiro follows his gaze, then huffs. “These are comfortable without them,” he declares. His eyes flash with rebellion and his chin lifts high. Everything about his posture dares Hunk to  _ make _ him wear the boxers.

This is probably how he looked to his captors before they hurt him.

All the fight goes out of Hunk. So long as Shiro doesn’t start getting... reactions (if he even can, considering it’s not his normal body), it shouldn’t matter too much.

Hunk will just have to... not think about it. And try not to stare. 

“Alright,” Hunk says. “Shoes next.”

Thankfully, that isn’t so much of a battle. Shiro’s reaction to flip flops is the same bemused confusion he shows toward most human customs. They make him walk up and down the hallway until he moves normally, and not like a cat forced into pet shoes.

Which means Shiro is as ready as he can be. 

“How do you even have both feet?” Lance asks, voice a whisper as Hunk locks the door behind them. “I mean, since...” He gestures to Shiro’s right foot pointedly.

Shiro laughs just as softly. “I don’t have legs at all,” he points out. “This is not a tail made into legs. These are created by the spell, and my tail is hidden.” He says it like he’s explaining why the alphabet is in that particular order.

Then he stops.

He stares down the two flights of steps to the parking lot. His eyes go wide.

Oh. Hunk hadn’t even considered this problem. But has Shiro ever gone up and down stairs?

“Okay,” Hunk says. “It’s just at different heights. We’ll take it slow and you can lean on us, okay?”

Shiro nods. He reaches out and grabs Hunk’s arm tightly in his left hand. His right arm sticks out for balance, and Lance hovers nearby for help if needed. Slowly, he steps down with one foot. As he descends, his grip tightens, and Hunk refuses to so much as wince. Once he’s stepped down, he repeats the process with his other foot until both are on the same step. 

The process is painstaking. Shiro doesn’t complain, or even speak. His brow is knotted with concentration. Despite his caution, he never shows fear. There’s no hesitation as he continues to face this new task.

Hunk’s chest feels too tight to contain the sudden  _ feelings _ that want to climb out of him. He’s proud and he’s fond and he’s impressed, but mostly he wants to pull Shiro in and hug him.

Halfway down, they do have to shuffle to the side to let a neighbor up. They get a side-eye for how slow they’re being, but when they see Shiro’s limp they look away quickly, pointedly not staring. Hunk might have huffed at that, but honestly he’s just relieved they’re not under scrutiny.

When they reach the bottom, Shiro beams at him. “Thank you,” he says, as if Hunk had carried him down both flights instead of simply watching Shiro do it.

“No problem,” Lance says easily, not seeming to notice (or not caring) that Shiro’s eyes are on Hunk. “I can drive.”

“Drive?” Shiro repeats under his breath. His eyes go to the cars, flickering over each with the same slightly-dubious look he’d originally given Hunk’s laptop.

Shiro has almost certainly seen cars before, but he’s probably never been in one. As they approach Lance’s sedan, he gently places his fingers on the body, tracing the curve of it.

“Front or back, dude?” Lance asks, pulling open the driver door. “If you don’t think you’ll be comfortable, you should stick to the back. It doesn’t feel like you’re moving so fast.”

At the word ‘fast’, Shiro’s eyes light up. “I would like the front,” he declares. He goes to the opposite side and, after a moment of trial, gets the door open. Once inside, he settles back comfortably in the seat, openly excited.

Hunk climbs into the back. “You have to put on the seatbelt too,” he tells Shiro, then does his own slowly so he can see.

Shiro watches, eyes wide, then looks to Lance, who does the same. His eager anticipation melts into distrust. “Why? What happens in the car that requires you to be restrained?”

“It’s in case there’s an accident,” Hunk says.

Brows furrowed, Shiro’s lips draw down further. “What kind of accident?”

“Like this.” Lance holds up one hand straight up and down, palm flat like a wall. He cups the other to imitate the car, and smashes it into the first hand, crumpling his fingers.

Hunk glares at him. “Lance!” He hisses. Then he turns to Shiro. “It’s very, very unlikely. I wouldn’t be in this car if there was any real chance we’d get in an accident. But just in case the belt can save you from being hurt.”

But Shiro doesn’t look terrified, merely thoughtful. He nods and pulls the belt over himself. After some fumbling, he locks it into place, then gives Lance a satisfied nod. “I am prepared.”

Lance smirks at Hunk in the rearview mirror, smug that Hunk’s scolding was unnecessary. “Alright, let’s roll out!”

It’s a short drive to the grocery store, but Hunk keeps a close eye on Shiro the whole time. If this was his first time in a car, he’d be freaking out. Especially with Lance, who is a competent driver but rough on his passengers.

But Shiro is unbothered. If anything, he’s fascinated. His eyes are glued to the window the whole time, and his eyes shine when Lance guns the engine to get up to speed.

Shiro and Lance can never go on a road trip together. Hunk would die. Even if he wasn’t with them, he’d know and he’d die.

As they park, it’s on the tip of Hunk’s tongue to encourage Shiro to be calm. Acting strangely enthusiastic about mundane products is likely to get them attention. Even if no one thinks ‘that’s a disguised merman, get him!’, that scrutiny probably isn’t what they want.

But Hunk swallows it back. Shiro is  _ happy. _ And from what he’s said, he hasn’t indulged his curiosity in humanity in a long time. Why stifle that? 

They have Shiro hold the cart. Having something to brace himself on helps with his limp and lets him move quicker. He uses his stump arm to help keep it from constantly turning.

“How much will we be getting?” Shiro asks, eyeing the empty expanse of the cart. 

“However much we need,” Lance replies cheerfully, spreading his arms. He walks backwards through the automatic doors, then has to suddenly pivot to avoid being hit by an oncoming shopper.

Shiro’s eyes go wide as they step inside. He looks carefully over the sections of the store, from the tall shelves to the displays of fruits and vegetables, to the seasonal novelty items. Hunk expects a sudden deluge of questions, like during movies or when they browsed the internet. But after a moment he cocks his head and seems to settle.

“Where to first?” Shiro asks, completely calm. He sounds like he’s done this a hundred times. Only the light of his eyes and curve of his lips gives away his curiosity and excitement.

Well, shit. Hunk should have given Shiro more credit. Even if much of human society is new to him, it seems fitting in without causing a scene is something he knows how to do. Which makes sense. Now that he knows Shiro can have legs and walk around, it means his knowledge of human language probably wasn’t only gained by hiding under piers.

They head to the fruits and veggies first, mostly because it’s right in front of the entranceway. The broccoli went well, so Hunk gets more of that, and some general salad for sides or lunches. 

“What does that say?” Shiro points to the sign under a set of samples.

“Pineapple,” Hunk tells him.

“Pine-ap-ple,” Shiro repeats, voice quiet as he sounds out the word. 

Lance grins at him, showing too many teeth to be actually nice. “Try it,” he invites. “It’s good.”

“Pineapple is tart,” Hunk warns, ignoring Lance’s pout. “But sweet. You might like it.”

Shiro’s brows rise, but he takes one piece by the toothpick. He takes a sniff before opening his mouth - revealing a mouthful of human teeth instead of his usual fangs. He chews thoughtfully, then goes stiff as the sour taste hits. Despite that, a smile spreads across his face. “Oh. That’s strange.”

“Do you like it?” Hunk asks. He smiles as well, warmed by Shiro’s genuine enjoyment.

Shiro thinks about it, then nods. “Yes. I’ve never eaten anything that feels like this.” He takes another sample, this time savoring it.

Usually, Hunk is a penny pincher. He’ll spend good money on higher quality ingredients, but for the basics he tries to stick to what’s on sale or what he has coupons for. Saving where they can is important, especially when neither he nor Lance make what he considers comfortable money.

Despite that, Hunk picks out a ripe pineapple before he’s really aware of what he’s doing. Shiro will be gone soon, probably in a few days or less, but if pineapple makes him smile, Hunk wants to get some.

Behind Shiro’s back, Lance’s brows go up and he mimes a kissing face. Hunk pretends he doesn’t see, and is deeply glad that Shiro can’t.

Shiro watches the movement, head tilted as he sees the fruit go into the cart. It’s not until Lance murmurs to him that he brightens, understanding the spiny exterior is the same thing he’d just eaten. His beaming smile makes Hunk’s chest feel soft, and he has to look away before his blush becomes obvious.

Moving through the store goes slowly. Hunk is picky about his choices and Lance encourages Shiro to try every sample they pass. The only time Hunk steps in is for the cheese - lactose is probably not going to agree with the stomach of an aquatic creature. The combination of those things means that they spend a solid half an hour just at the deli counter. Hunk keeps asking for extremely specific thicknesses for his cheese and meats, while Shiro nibbles on a little of everything safe.

Shiro shows no hesitation at each new experience. He might cock his head and observe for a moment, but he’s game to try just about anything the store has to offer. There are often stares from other patrons, both because of Shiro’s single arm or Lance’s volume. But he only gives them polite smiles, appropriately bashful, and they look away.

That kind of courage is something Hunk has never really known. Yes, he has confidence when it comes to his cooking or designs at work, but that’s what Hunk already knows he’s good at. Shiro is fully willing to immerse himself in this alien world with a smile.

Hunk’s opinion of Shiro has changed a lot in the past few days. He went from completely mistrusting and upset to reluctantly welcoming, then to intrigued, then to attracted. But now, Hunk finds himself admiring Shiro beyond the fantasy elements of being a mysterious merman knight. He’s patient and he’s  _ brave, _ and it makes Hunk want to step outside of his shell more, even if it scares him.

When Hunk has his deli needs sorted, he smiles at Shiro and Lance. “You guys ready, or do you have more you want to try?”

“We’re ready,” Shiro says, smiling. He maneuvers over the cart so Hunk can deposit his goods. “What’s next?”

“Through the aisles,” Hunk says, nodding toward the center of the shop. He leads the way, and Shiro hurries to catch up despite his limp. He settles in by Hunk’s side, so they’re shoulder to shoulder, and seems content to stay there. Between the two of them, they take up most of the space in the aisle, and more than one customer eyes them as they squeeze past. Normally, Hunk would shrink away in apology, but today he can’t really bring himself to care.

The last stop of the trip, by Hunk’s design, is the seafood counter. Shiro’s eyes go wide and his lips curl up in that familiar bemusement as he looks over the selection.

While he’s occupied, Hunk picks up frozen tilapia and salmon filets. They’re easy to make, tasty, and will survive a while even if they don’t get through it with Shiro, so they won’t go to waste.

When Hunk returns, Shiro leans in closely. “It’s fascinating,” he murmurs, too low for the thankfully occupied clerk to hear. “All cut up and ready to be burnt and covered in sand.”

Hunk elbows him on the side, thankful it’s Shiro’s left so he won’t jab him in healing wounds. “If that’s how you feel, we don’t need to get any.”

“We don’t have to,” Shiro replies immediately. Despite Hunk’s joking tone, he’s utterly sincere. “I’ve been fine with what you’ve been making. It’s all been very tasty. You don’t need to buy anything special.”

“I want to. I like cooking for people, especially when they appreciate it.”

Shiro’s gaze softens. “You take good care of people you care for,” he says, like it’s something he’s completely confident of. He nudges their shoulders together, then steps forward to peer at more of the selection. He leaves Hunk behind, struggling against a growing blush.

“Need help with anything?” The clerk asks, as another customer wanders off with several wrapped stacks of seafood.

Shiro smiles at her, looking perfectly comfortable. “I’m just looking. I’m not the one doing the cooking.” He looks over his shoulder and gives Hunk a sunny smile.

Under the attentive looks of both the clerk and Shiro, Hunk blushes. “Ah... what do you think about shrimp, Shiro?”

“Sounds delicious,” Shiro says. “I’m curious to know what you’ll do to them.” 

“A pound of the jumbo shrimp, then,” Hunk says. Behind him, he hears Lance let out an excited whoop.

The total comes out to something that Hunk could go without hearing. But Shiro keeps smiling at him and Lance literally has a bounce with each step, so Hunk can’t really regret it.

(Despite that, it is a relief when Lance pays for half of the groceries. Hunk’s bank account can take it, but seeing large totals at checkout still makes him wince.)

The trip back is uneventful. Lance chatters easily about weird stories from work, which Hunk always appreciates. Shiro slumps down in his seat, happy but not as enthusiastic as the drive to the store. He insists on taking two of the bags on his one arm, though he crinkles his nose at the plastic. The trip up the stairs even slower than the trip up, and by the end Shiro’s cheeks are flushed.

“You okay?” Lance asks. He opens the door for them, then carefully takes the grocery bags from Shiro. 

As soon as he’s through the door, Shiro’s shoulders slump. Some of the bemused ease falls away, revealing strain underneath. “I’m fine,” he says, and his voice suddenly isn’t the calm tones of before. “The spell just... takes a lot.”

Hunk dumps his bags on the counter, then offers his shoulder to Shiro. He takes it, and the two of them painstakingly make their way to the bathroom. 

As soon as they enter the room, Shiro strips off the shirt, struggling only a little with his single hand, then drops his pants. Hunk looks away instinctively, and by the time he pulls himself together, Shiro has sunk into the bathtub. There’s a flash of blue light, and then his legs are gone, replaced by his tail. He lets out a sigh of open relief and turns on the water to begin filling it up.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Hunk asks. Shiro had seemed so happy, but the second he was in the privacy of the apartment, his confidence had fallen away. Had he been faking it for the sake of fitting in? Hunk had admired his bravery, but maybe Shiro had actually been miserable.

“Just tired,” Shiro replies. He turns his head to face Hunk and smiles, though his eyes are half-lidded. “Toward the end I felt the strain, but I couldn’t drop the spell. It’s been a long time since I had to keep it up, and I’m still recovering. But thank you for taking me. It was  _ fascinating, _ even the parts with plastic.”

Hunk searches Shiro’s face, gauging his sincerity. He continues to smile, expression soft if clearly exhausted, so Hunk relaxes. “I’m glad you came. And I promise all of our plastic gets recycled, not thrown out.”

“Good.” Shiro’s eyes fall closed as he settles in. The water slowly creeps up around him, wetting the tips of his long, dark hair. “I’m glad to be back to safety, even if it was fun.”

Safety. Shiro sees their apartment as  _ safe. _ Maybe that shouldn’t be a surprise, but hearing it out loud still makes Hunk smile.

“Of course.” Hunk rocks forward, only barely stopping himself from tucking Shiro’s hair behind his ears. That would be way too far, especially when Shiro is half asleep. “You rest up, okay? I’ll get lunch started soon.”

“Mmm.” Shiro forces his eyes open. “I’m fine. I just need a break.”

“Sure,” Hunk says, not even bothering to call out the lie. He doesn’t have to, because Shiro’s eyes fall shut again immediately after. “You have your break and I’ll let you know when lunch is ready.”

“Kay,” Shiro slurs out. His head lists to the side and his breathing deepens. The spell must be seriously draining for him to conk out like that, barely a minute after getting in.

But he’d still used it just to go shopping with Lance and Hunk. Just because he’d wanted to go with them. And now Shiro is boneless and vulnerable, trusting Hunk and Lance to keep him safe.

Hunk smiles, but it feels punched out of him. The surge of affection fills him up until it seems like he’s going to burst with it. Surely, the emotion is too much to hold, especially after only a few days of knowing someone.

Standing, Hunk closes the door carefully behind him. He’s going to use all this sudden energy for something useful, like putting groceries away, instead of pining over a merman.

***

The conundrum of cooking for a merperson is that Hunk both wants to show Shiro what human cooking can really be like, and to stick to what he can eat. There’s so much more to Hunk’s recipes than salt and pepper, but even humans can have allergies or trouble with ingredients. If Shiro can’t handle something, it could be an uncomfortable night or it could be deadly.

But Shiro also dared Hunk to show him something better than the extremely bare bones food he’d gotten already, and he’s seemed fine so far. 

It’s a difficult balance, and one that has Hunk flipping through his recipe binders for something that’s both tasty and unlikely to cause digestive or allergy issues. He has the broccoli crowns already cut up, waiting for olive oil and seasoning. For that, he plans on some spices for a kick, since Shiro had enjoyed some of the more adventurously spiced meats at the deli.

Then he hears something. A low rumble, drawn out and muffled down the hallway.

Hunk pauses, his ears straining to pick up the noise again. After a few seconds of silence, he nearly gives up, but then it comes again.

A movie? It wouldn’t be the first time Lance has played a DVD too loudly. Normally Hunk just puts on his own headphones or ignores it, but Shiro is trying to sleep. He doesn’t have that option.

Setting down the recipe book, Hunk sighs and heads into the hallway. He’ll just knock on Lance’s door and tell him to turn it down a bit, no big deal. Whatever horror movie he’s watching doesn’t need to be at full blast.

Except as he passes the bathroom, Hunk hears sloshing water and the noise again - this time, it’s a low, pained moan.

That’s not a movie. That’s Shiro.

Immediately, Hunk’s mind jumps to his earlier worries - Shiro must have tried something that doesn’t agree with him. Just avoiding dairy wasn’t enough, and he really should have stopped Lance from stuffing the merman full of so many samples. Now there’s no way of knowing what set him off.

Hunk gives a single rap of his knuckles against the door before he pushes it open. He expects to find Shiro clutching his stomach, curled up in the bathtub or maybe trying to get out. 

But he’s not. Shiro isn’t even awake. He turns in place, head snapping from side to side. The wet strands stick to his face, making him look even paler than usual. Another of those low moans escapes him, like he’s speaking with a hand around his throat.

A nightmare.

Hunk closes the door carefully behind him and bites his bottom lip. “Shiro?” He calls, voice coming out a tentative squeak. Then, this time stronger, he tries again. “Shiro?”

No response. Shiro continues to shift. His tail jerks, sending up a spray of water. It’s not enough to properly wet the floor, but drops go far enough to splatter on Hunk’s shirt.

Hunk moves forward and reaches out tentatively. “Shiro,” he calls again, trying for cheerful this time. It comes out too squeaky. “Hey, it’s just a dream. Wake-”

His palm makes contact with Shiro’s shoulder.

Shiro’s tail makes contact with Hunk’s side.

It happens in an instant. One second he’s reaching out, the next he’s sprawled out on the tile, his side aching. Thankfully the angle must have been bad, because Hunk is more surprised than hurt. Even so, he gingerly picks himself off the floor, making sure nothing was truly damaged.

Shiro is sitting upright, eyes wide, breath coming in rapid bursts. His tail stays between himself and Hunk like a shield.

Hunk suddenly has a good idea of what happened to his tail fin.

“Hey,” Hunk says, holding up both hands. “You were dreaming. Remember? Lance found you and brought you here? You’re safe.”

At first, Shiro continues to stare, stiff with fear and eyes blank with distrust. Then, all at once, he slumps back into place. His tail droops like all the life has gone out of him. “Right,” he says, voice rough with sleep. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Hunk says. At Shiro’s dubious look, he snorts. “Seriously, you basically pushed me over. I’m fine. If I was even bruised you wouldn’t hear the end of it. I don’t handle pain well.”

Shiro cracks a smile at that. “Okay,” he says, settling down again. His right arm twitches, and then he uses his left hand to rub over his face instead. “Did I disturb you? I apologize.”

“Don’t. You were having a nightmare, you can’t control that. I’m not surprised, given how tired you were. You basically passed out.” Hunk settles on his knees, hands folded in his lap. Maybe he should leave, now. Give Shiro space. But Hunk wants to understand Shiro, to be someone he can trust. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Shiro says, a bitter laugh filling his voice. “Not in particular.” He looks to Hunk and seems to consider, before sighing. “It was about this.” He waves his stump again, this time purposefully.

Oh. Hunk’s stomach sinks. He’s never seen Shiro with both arms, so even with the healing wounds it’s easy to forget the damage was done so recently. “Does it hurt?” He knows some clients feel their limbs ache even when they’re gone.

“Just like being bruised.” Shiro runs his fingers along the edge, running along the twisting scar tissue. “And it feels much better than it would if I was captured. The Galra...” He flinches, realizing he said too much. “The other merpeople, they like to fight. It shows who’s stronger, which is important to them. The ones that lose limbs often attach weapons to themselves instead. They would have done that to me too.”

“Why?” Hunk asks. When Shiro’s tired eyes snap to him, Hunk winces. “You don’t have to answer. But you’re their enemy, right? Why would they make you more dangerous?”

Shiro’s eyes roam over Hunk’s face. Hunk physically bites his tongue to keep from speaking. He already told Shiro he can blow off the question, and he wants to know so badly. What  _ happened _ to Shiro?

“I was their enemy,” Shiro finally says. He drops his hand into his lap and stares into the water. “Then they captured me. Months ago. It’s something their higher ranked soldiers do. And rather than kill me, they... they have entertainment. Tournaments. They’d surround me and other prisoners, or creatures they starved. Then they’d have us fight.”

Hunk’s stomach drops. He genuinely can’t imagine that, not outside of stories and history books. Intellectually, he knows it’s still a thing, but it still seems like something out of corny fantasy movies.

Then again, so does the merman in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” Hunk says, voice shaking. He scoots forward on his knees and rests his hand on Shiro’s tail, slow enough that he sees it coming. Nausea claws at his stomach. Someone did that to Shiro, who is excited to try new foods and learned English from curiously watching humans. Someone stole him and forced him to fight animals and fellow prisoners. How could someone  _ do _ that?

“Why? You didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sorry it happened to you. You don’t deserve it.” Hunk hesitates, then nods to his arm. “Is that how that happened?”

Shiro shakes his head. “No, not then. I escaped. Someone in the Galra helped. He said there were those who didn’t agree with Zarkon’s rule. They wanted to stop him. So Ulaz let me out so I could return to Allura’s side and help fight them off. Except...” Shiro swallows hard. His tail twists, like he’s trying to curl it under himself. “Sendak found out. A Galra general. He was one of the ones that liked my fights the most. He wanted me to forsake the Princess and fight under him. So he tried to capture me again. We fought. He did this.” Shiro used his stump to gesture to the side wounds and ripped tail. 

Wincing, Hunk follows his gaze. The cut on the arm was relatively clean, like it had been sliced, while the side cuts looked like they’d been clawed in. The tail, on the other hand, looks like it was bitten. Whoever Sendak is, Hunk has no desire to meet him in a dark alley. Or anywhere at all, really.

“But I got away,” Shiro continues. His voice strengthens and his eyes flash. At that moment, he looks like a soldier. Like a knight. “ I had to keep moving to stay away from him, and then I was lost and hurt. After a while I blacked out, and then woke up here.”

“I’m glad,” Hunk says quietly. At Shiro’s startled look, Hunk gives him a thin smile. “I’m sure you’d rather be home, still. But I’m glad you got to be here and rest for a while. Explore. Not go from being captured and right into a war again.”

Shiro’s eyes widen. His cheeks and the tips of his ears go red until he looks away. “I didn’t think about that. Just that the Princess and Keith need me. The kingdom needs me. I should go.”

“What if you didn’t?”

Shiro’s entire body goes stiff. “Excuse me?”

As neutral as the tone is, Hunk knows he’s hit a nerve. He winces, but continues on. “You already fought the Galra. They took your arm and part of your tail. You survived them for... however long they had you. Maybe you’ve done enough? Staying in a bathtub isn’t ideal, but we can figure something out. You don’t have to go back.”

“I do.”

“You  _ don’t,” _ Hunk says, his voice raising. He braces both hands on the side of the tub, clenching it as he tries to contain the fear churning in his stomach. “Human soldiers don’t have to go to war anymore when they get their arms or legs torn off. We can tell your friends you’re alive and safe, but you don’t have to keep  _ fighting.” _

Shiro meets Hunk’s eyes. He puts his remaining hand over Hunk’s and squeezes it. “I do,” he says, calm in the face of Hunk’s panic. “Not because anyone’s making me, but because I need to. I can’t abandon my home or my friends. I want to be there for them.”

_ What about me? _ The words are on the tip of Hunk’s tongue. Hunk can be safe, can be caring, can be kind. Why does he get abandoned instead?

But that’s a selfish question, and one he knows the answer to. Shiro has only known him for a few days, and he doesn’t  _ owe _ Hunk for the care. He doesn’t need to give up his whole life because Hunk caught feelings.

“If you go...’ Hunk’s voice cracks. He slams his eyes shut as he turns his hand around to link his fingers with Shiro’s. “You could be captured again or killed and I would never know.”

Something wet brushes Hunk’s forehead. His eyes snap open to see Shiro’s grey eyes inches from his own. He presses their faces together, his left hand cupping Hunk’s cheek.

“I’ll come back,” Shiro says. “To visit. I promise. But I have to go.”

Hunk takes a deep breath, unashamed of how wet his voice and eyes are. “You better,” he says. “How else can we keep improving your tail prosthetic?”

Shiro flashes him a warm smile. “Well, then I  _ have _ to come back.” He presses in closer, eyes closed. His breath tickles over Hunk’s chin on every exhale. “Thank you. It’s nice that you want to protect me. That’s just not who I am.”

“I know,” Hunk says. Even after only a few days, he knows it’s true. Shiro will go back into the water and stand up for what he believes in, no matter what’s in his way.

But he also knows Shiro is a survivor. He came out from all those fights he was forced into, faced a Galra general and lived. He’ll come back.

Hunk has to believe that.

“I’m going to look forward to every time you visit,” Hunk says. He finally pulls back and wipes under his eyes. “So you better be on time or I’ll worry.”

“I’ll do my best,” Shiro says. It’s not a promise, and his flash of a smile says that’s on purpose. He slumps back down into the tub again, eyes falling shut.

Hunk watches him, heart in his throat. Then he forces a smile onto his face. “Still tuckered out? You can sleep some more. Lunch won’t be for a bit.”

“Mmm.” Shiro cracks open his eyes. “Probably won’t.”

“Sure,” Hunk says, without a trace of belief. Shiro’s lips form into that familiar pout (and, seriously, how can someone who lived through gladiator fights still pout like that?). “I’ll let you know when the food is ready.”

With that, Hunk stands up straight and walks out of the bathroom, chin held high. As soon as he’s through, he closes the door and slumps against the hallway wall. His lower lip trembles against more tears.

“You okay?” Lance asks softly. When Hunk looks over, he’s standing in the door frame of his room. There’s no teasing or humor in his face, only worry.

If anyone has to see this, Hunk is glad it’s Lance. He’s teased Hunk for years about his tendency to cry easily, but never when it would really hurt.

Hunk takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” he croaks out. It’s transparently a lie. “No. But I will be.”

“I’m sorry,” Lance says. He steps forward, his gaze tracing over the tears in Hunk’s eyes and the slump of his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have brought him here.”

Hunk shakes his head vigorously, bracing one hand on the wall. “I’m glad you did. I’m glad we helped him. You were right.” He wipes under his eyes again. “He’ll come visit. It’s not goodbye.”

“Yeah,” Lance says, his voice cracking on the words. “And we’ll be here to greet him.”

“Exactly.” Hunk marches his way into the kitchen and gets to work on lunch.

If he’s crying while he does it, well, it’s just more salt.


	5. Chapter 5

Once again, Hunk watches the 3D printer scan from side to side. Last time they used the eye searing green to test, but this time Hunk has taken the risk of using the black plastic. It’s more likely someone will notice some of it missing, but it’ll also blend better with Shiro’s tail. If he’s going to be going out and fighting, then a neon fin isn’t going to help him sneak around if he needs to.

Hunk would rather get in trouble than know his design got Shiro hurt. Or worse.

Next to him, Pidge leans back in the chair. Normally, it would be occupied by the tech who works with printing files. But after Pidge brought up his work-time watching habits, he’d vacated and left them to it. Plausible deniability, according to Pidge. Hunk is pretty sure it’s just because Pidge didn’t want him around while they waited, which is also fair.

“So,” Pidge says, drawing the word out for several seconds. “I’ve been doing some research.”

“Into what?” Hunk says, trying to fight off his wince. Considering her last assumptions, he really hopes she hasn’t been looking into mermaid hobbyist pages - or anything that could make her get back on the ‘fetish’ idea.

Pidge pulls out her phone and opens her browser, then hands it over. Hunk hesitates, then takes the device. Thankfully, the page she has up is a shopping site.

A site for 3D printers.

Huh.

“The ones that are only a couple hundred dollars don’t really seem worth it,” Pidge says. “They don’t do much and they have too many problems. But there are a couple for about 400 bucks that are pretty decent. The plastic itself isn’t expensive either, and some of them have a couple of colors in the same build if we want.”

Hunk’s brows come together as he scrolls through specs. “Okay,” he says, looking up at her. She continues to stare back hopefully, still balanced on the back two legs of her chair. “But... why?”

Gesturing at the printer in front of them, Pidge snorts. “I mean, we can’t keep sneaking this forever, right? So might as well get one. I know it’s a lot, but I was thinking we could do stuff like help local people print their models for a small fee. Like, DnD minis or whatever.”

Hunk tilts his head. “But this should be the last version of this. Why do we need it for more?”

“Well, more projects,” Pidge says, as if it’s obvious. “This was cool, right? Actually designing and building stuff. Testing it. It can be for side projects like this. How many people do you bet would buy their own mermaid fins online?”

Oh. Hunk bites his bottom lip as he hands back the phone. He had been thinking about this project in terms of his current mission. He hadn’t jumped ahead to the specifics of building an arm for Shiro, not when he wasn’t done with the fin. Having a printer like that around would be nice. The price was... a lot. Enough that Hunk would be cutting it tight for a while. But Pidge sounds confident it would pay for itself soon enough.

Most importantly, this has been fun. In a terrifying, ‘I can’t get found out, I might get fired and or expose all of mermaid kind’ way, but fun. That first planning session had been the best time Hunk’s had at work ever. Why not keep that up?

Besides, having a printer on hand will make it way easier to work on a new arm for Shiro. 

What’ll also help (and make it faster and more fun) would be having a second, brilliant mind to help.

“It’s a good idea,” Hunk finally says, and is rewarded with Pidge beaming and enthusiastically pumping her fists. “It might need to wait a bit while I save up. And we’d have to decide where to keep it.”

Pidge flaps a hand. “Your place is fine. I live with my parents for now, so I only have my room for stuff. And it’s already pretty full. We can discuss it again whenever I finally move out.”

Considering how messy Pidge’s tiny internship desk gets, Hunk fully believes her room is the same. “Okay. Yeah. If you’re good with that.”

“Totally.” Pidge sticks out her hand, her grin bright with excitement and a hint of mischief. “Partners?”

“I haven’t agreed yet.”

“Details. C’mon, you want to, right?”

Hunk does. He really, really does.

But if they’re in joint custody of these projects, if she’s going to be working on something as complex as an arm that functions in the ocean, with almost no upkeep...

Hunk can’t keep up a lie that long. He just can’t. It’ll give him a heart attack and he’ll die. Telling anyone about Shiro is scary, but he’d already been told it was okay - if Hunk trusts her, so does Shiro.

And damn it, Hunk does. But how is he even supposed to explain this?

Same way it was explained to him. By showing. 

“Okay,” Hunk says. He holds up his hands rather than take Pidge’s. “Yeah, I think this is a good idea. But before we start, I have a project in mind. But I think you need to see it for yourself to understand. You think you could come back to my place tonight?”

Pidge starts to nod, then narrows her eyes. Her expression becomes pure calculation as she looks Hunk up and down. Despite being half his side in both height and width, Hunk wants to inch away from her.

“Just to check,” she says, slow and careful. “When I say partnership, I mean like, office partners. ‘Both names on the company’ partners. Not... something else.”

At first, Hunk frowns, confused and a little insulted. Does Pidge think he’d take all the credit? What kind of guy does she think he is?

Then he realizes she’s worried he’s asking her out.

Hunk chokes on a laugh, which makes her pause again. He covers his mouth with a palm for just a second to hide a flash of a smile. Damn, he’s so far gone on Shiro that he wasn’t even thinking of anyone else as an option, apparently.

“No worries there,” Hunk says easily. Then he pauses, realizing that could be insulting. Both hands fly up in immediate placation. “I mean, no that... it’s not a bad idea. I mean, it is! For us! But it could be okay in different circumstances, just not with me, because I’m not... shit. No, I’m not trying to ask you out. I think you’re great in a friend way.”

At first, Pidge continues to stare. As Hunk shrinks back farther, she barks out a laugh. “I was just checking! It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried something that weird as a line. You’re okay. Breathe.”

“Okay, yeah.” Hunk takes a deep breath.

Pidge pats him firmly on the back, still chuckling. “Yeah, I don’t have anything better to do tonight. Mom drops me off on her way to the university, so I’ll tell her I’m getting a ride and to pick me up later than afternoon. Sound good?”

“Yeah.” Hunk focuses on giving her his apartment information and the printer, but in the back of his mind he still prods over that minute of interaction.

Exactly how hung up on Shiro is he? How big a problem is this going to be?

***

It’s a half an hour drive back to Hunk’s apartment. He spends the whole time fretting over the music from his phone, not sure what Pidge likes. Generally he puts on a throwback playlist, but a lot of it is pop, and maybe that’s not what Pidge is into? There’s also an embarrassing number of musical songs peppered into it, and Hunk’s cheeks burn as he skips past them.

No matter how many times Pidge tells him, emphatically, that it’s his music and she doesn’t really care, Hunk can’t help apologizing. He knows he’s being silly. He knows it’s nerves seeping into something mundane. But like the puddles of water in the bathroom, he can fix playing the wrong song. He can’t take back what he’s about to do.

Hunk trusts Pidge. He needs her help to make Shiro’s arm. But that doesn’t make inviting her to his home and into this huge secret less  _ terrifying. _

When they arrive, Hunk leads her up the steps and to the door. He fumbles the lock as his stomach does flips, and hopes it looks like he’s being clumsy rather than that he’s nervous. From Pidge’s side-eye, he doesn’t think he succeeds.

“Hey,” Hunk calls, ignoring that. “I’m home. And I brought Pidge.”

There’s a pause, and then Lance pops up from the other side of the couch. He gives Pidge a wide-eyed look, then plasters on a smile. It makes him look more than slightly creepy. “Heya. Pidge? Cool. Hunk says good things.” He shoots Hunk a wild look, still in full view on Pidge.

Looking between them both, Pidge frowns and crosses her arms. She takes a step back, like she’s considering going right back out the door. “Hey,” she greets back, not bothering to sound anything but uncomfortable. “Look, is this a bad time or something? I don’t want to get in the middle of anything. I’ll call my mom and have her pick me up.”

“No, no. It’s just...” Hunk winces, his eyes darting toward the hallway. He can just barely hear the sounds of churning water from the bathroom. “It’ll make sense in a minute? It’s not what you think.”

“Usually when someone says that, it’s exactly what I think,” Pidge mutters. She narrows her eyes at him, and her eyes have the exact same thoughtful sheen they did the first time they discussed the ‘true’ use of the fin.

Hunk’s cheeks go red again. His stomach is still doing flips, but the humiliation that Pidge thinks this is a fetish thing again pushes him forward. “Come on. If you guess what’s going on, I’ll buy you lunch for a week and eat a stack of paperwork.”

That, at least, intrigues Pidge. She trots along behind him to the hallway, though she hesitates when they stop in front of the bathroom door. But Hunk just holds it open so she can see inside.

See the merman in their tub, currently running his fingers idly through the bathwater. Shiro doesn’t look surprised to see Hunk or their guest, which was part of the reason Hunk had announced their arrival so bluntly. “Hello,” he greets formally, as if it’s perfectly normal for him to be introduced to people while trapped in a bathroom.

Pidge opens her mouth. Shuts up. Points at Shiro, looking between him and Hunk. Her eyes hit the bright green temporary fin still tied to Shiro’s tail.

Then she  _ beams. _ “That’s- what... That’s  _ real.” _

“I prefer he,” Shiro says, bone dry.”

“This is Shiro,” Hunk says. “Shiro, this is Pidge. She’s the one who helped me make the replacement tail fin.”

Shiro bows his head to her, knightly and polite as Hunk would expect from a princess’ companion. “I’m honored to meet you. I appreciate the work you put into the fin. It will make a big difference in my mobility.”

Pidge continues to stare, openly delighted. Then, she bursts forward with such speed she might as well have teleported. Her hands both dive into the water, tracing down the sides of Shiro’s tail and feeling the scales. “How did you get here? What happened to your tail? What’s your average swim speed? Where do you usually live?”

“Excuse me!” Shiro yelps, trying and failing to yank himself back. But there’s nowhere for him to go in the tub, with his back to the wall. Spots of color grow over his cheeks, skipping right past embarrassed and closer to mortified.

Hunk doesn’t think. He surges forward and wraps an arm around Pidge’s middle, heaving her up and into the air. “Hey! Pidge, what are you  _ doing?” _

“You have a real merman! I want to know-” Pidge struggles, then stills as she registers Shiro’s uncomfortable stare and Hunk’s angry tone. “Okay, sorry. I got carried away. I wasn’t thinking.”

A chuckle comes from the doorway. Hunk glances over to see Lance grinning. “Yeah, it’s pretty wild. I probably would have been just as weird if you’d been conscious when I found you, Shiro.”

Shiro wrinkles his nose. He relaxes more, though he eyes Pidge warily. “Does this have something to do with the seashell bras you were so curious about?”

Snorting, Pidge goes limp. She arches her brow at Lance. “You had a merman and  _ that’s _ what you asked?”

“At least I didn’t grope his tail.”

“You know what? Fair.” Pidge kicks her feet until Hunk reluctantly sets her down. “Shiro, you said? I’m sorry about that. Really, it was wrong of me. My curiosity can get the best of me. It’s just...” Her eyes go bright and she claps her hands together, looking almost  _ dreamy. _ On Pidge, it’s an alarming expression. “Real proof of merpeople.”

Shiro clears his throat. “Person,” he corrects. “Singular. Apology accepted, however.” He doesn’t look as mortified anymore, but his eyes flicker to Hunk and Lance, openly nervous.

Hunk lets go and steps back now that Pidge isn’t about to dive into the tub with Shiro. “This isn’t about that,” Hunk says, stern as he can manage. He would never call himself authoritative, but he’ll try if it means Pidge doesn’t dig into things Shiro doesn’t want her to know. “I wanted to show you what our projects were really doing. And to show you the next step.” He nods to Shiro, who obligingly lifts his stump.

Pidge takes a deep breath, obviously about to argue. But her eyes follow the movement of Shiro’s arm, and instead her expression becomes thoughtful. “Oh,” she breathes. “A prosthetic that works continuously in sea water.”

“And has minimal maintenance checks,” Hunk agrees. His stomach flips again as he remembers anew that Shiro leaves soon, and he’ll be gone for weeks.

Pidge nods and steps forward again. This time, though, she just looks, head tilted as she takes in the full extent of the damage. “The wound was relatively recent?”

“Yes,” Shiro says, though he doesn’t elaborate. Which is just as well. It would just raise more questions if he pointed out he lost his arm around a week ago, even though it’s nearly healed.

Pidge kneels down next to the tub. “May I touch?” This time, Shiro nods, holding out his arm and letting Pidge feel the muscles. “For stability, it’ll have to go up nearly to your shoulder. Do you spend much time deep under water? The pressure could have an effect, depending on the materials.”

Hunk comes over as well, his brows furrowing. That was an issue he honestly hadn’t considered, and now seems like a huge oversight.

“I spend a good amount of time deep down,” Shiro says. “Usually not so deep that there’s little light, but I’ve spent periods of time down there.” His tone stays neutral, but his eyes go distant.

That would be with the Galra, then. Hunk’s hands clench at his side. Once again, he wishes that Shiro would just  _ stay. _

Pidge looks like she desperately wants to ask more. But she glances at Shiro’s face and focuses on the arm instead. “Well, plastic is probably okay that deep, but we’d probably need to do tests, and I think metal is better long term.”

“I would prefer it,” Shiro says flatly. “There is enough plastic in the ocean.”

Lance snorts, settling comfortably against the wall. His arms are crossed, and his posture is deceptively casual. But there’s a sharp, watchful shine to his eyes. It’s the same look he gets when trying to win one of his first person shooter games.

“We can work on a more permanent version of the tail fin too, then,” Hunk offers, a hint of an apology to his voice. He hopes Shiro won’t resent the versions Hunk has already made. “Or, if you’re willing to wait...”

Shiro shakes his head with finality, though his eyes are soft. “No. That version is enough, and it’s small. I can return it to you if it becomes damaged or there is a new version. But the arm sounds more complex.”

“Definitely,” Pidge says. “More moving parts, especially if we want it to be able to grip anything.” She drums her fingers on the edge of the tub, visibly calculating.

Brows up, Shiro mouths ‘grip’ to Hunk, his eyes wide. At Hunk’s agreeing nod, he slumps back slightly, overwhelmed. Clearly, he hadn’t considered that part of the deal. Likely he’d just been hoping for something that bent and adapted like the tail fin.

If Hunk has anything to say about it, Shiro is going to get the best prosthetic possible, no matter what it takes. Finger articulation, natural movement, comfort - everything.

“How about we start with the final tail fin, first,” Lance says, his brows up. He nods to Hunk’s backpack. “You wanted to finish it up today, right?”

“Right!” Hunk pulls off his pack and digs out the new tail fin. He hands it over so Shiro can look it over himself. The black plastic isn’t the exact same deep shade of Shiro’s claws and scales, and it obviously lacks the iridescence. But from Shiro’s pleased smile, it might as well have been made of gold.

Shiro hands it back. As he does, the tips of his claws brush against Hunk’s fingers, a flash of dangerous contact that should have been more frightening than intriguing. Hunk only hopes his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “Amazing. Thank you both.”

“It would have helped to know what I was really working on,” Pidge comments. She watches with obvious interest as Hunk unties the old fin and replaces it with the new. It stands out against the other, pure black instead of the faded gradient. But it doesn’t clash in comparison to the neon green of before. “But it looks pretty good, considering. You did a good job designing it, Hunk.”

“Your feedback helped a ton,” Hunk says. He uses his fingers to shift the fin, making sure it fits together and moves smoothly, before he steps back. He can feel Shiro’s warm stare, but he refuses to look. He’s blushed enough already. “It wouldn’t have been ready nearly as fast without you. Especially without your connections.”

Pidge chuckles. “The favor went to a good cause. I’m not complaining.” She leans her elbow on the tub and rests her chin on her palm. “Why was it important to move fast? Is something happening?” Pausing, she glances at Shiro. “If I’m allowed to know.”

“No particular event,” Shiro says calmly. “I merely wish to go home. And to be able to move freely again.” He waves his tail, indicating the way so much of it hangs out and into the air.

“Yeah,” Pidge says, brows up. “That’s definitely fair. That doesn’t look comfy.”

“It’s more than I could have hoped for when Lance and Hunk found me and helped me recover from my injuries,” Shiro says. He looks between them both, smiling softly. This time, there’s an edge of sadness to it.

Lance snorts. “Yeah, well, we didn’t have a lot of options. But I’m glad we could do something.” He hesitated, then glanced at Hunk. “Shiro was saying earlier that if the tail fin was finished up today, he could leave tonight.”

Hunk’s stomach crashes down. He might as well have been elbowed in the stomach for how off balance he feels. “Oh,” he manages.

“Wait,” Pidge says, sitting down properly on the floor. “What’s the point of discussing anything for the arm, then? If he’s leaving tonight.”

“I had planned to visit,” Shiro says. His eyes stay locked onto Hunk, wide and dark. There’s an apology behind them, probably for the fast timetable. There’s also something hopeful. “I could come regularly. Once a month, I believe we said?”

“Yeah,” Hunk forces out. He makes himself smile, trying to soothe Shiro’s worry. It only seems to make him sadder, but Hunk can’t help that. There’s only so comforting he can be when he wants to throw up. “Gives us some time to think and work on it.”

Pidge leans back on her palms and sighs. “Well, that’ll make sizing harder. We should take measurements now so we’ll have them. Unless you already have?”

“No, not yet.” Hunk turns to get a measuring tape, stepping around Lance to get through the door. “Sorry, this is about to get nerdy and boring.”

“So every day with you?” Lance elbows him fondly. “Nah, that’s fine. I have work in a bit. Though I’m thinking of calling in sick tonight.” He gives a dramatic, fake-sounding cough.

Lance probably wants to be there to see Shiro off. But even so, Hunk frowns. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Missing a shift because he’s actually sick would be one thing. Missing a day of tips and pay when he’s fine is another. He won’t object if Lance digs in his heels, but he can’t say it makes him comfortable.

Sitting up straighter, Shiro frowns. “You do not need to avoid your job tonight. I will be back soon, and I can say my goodbyes to you now instead of later.”

Lance’s expression gets tight, but he finally sighs. “Yeah, okay. You asked for it, then.” He surges forward and grabs Shiro in a tight hug, uncaring that the merman is damp. “We’re going to miss you, man.”

Softening, Shiro hugs him back, gently patting Lance on the back. “I’ll miss you as well. Both of you.” His eyes go up to Hunk, dark and shining with sincerity.

Hunk’s heart lurches. He turns and walks out, getting that measuring tape to avoid his swooping stomach. Behind him, he hears Lance complaining about everything Shiro is going to miss and all the stuff they still need to show him next time. Shiro chuckles and agrees, openly fond.

If it takes longer than strictly needed to ‘find’ the tape measure, Hunk doesn’t think anyone notices.

***

“Okay,” Pidge says, pushing her bangs out of her face. They spike up, still damp from a stray splash earlier. “That should be enough to work with. I’m not sure we’ll have a prototype in 30 days, just because it depends on the materials. But if we start with a plastic prototype and use that to build a second version off of, that’ll at least give us something to test.”

Shiro nods, leaning back in the tub. His left arm drapes over the rim, still available to be measured and prodded, while his stump rests over his chest. “The prototype would be... recycled?” He looks to Hunk for confirmation. Now that Pidge has stopped digging for information, Shiro has definitely warmed up to her more. But it seems his trust is still with Hunk.

It would warm Hunk if there was room for more emotions in his churning stomach.

“Definitely,” Hunk agrees, holding one hand up like a scout salute. It means nothing to Shiro, no doubt, but it earns a smile anyway. “And when we replace your tail fin, that’ll be taken care of too.”

Shiro nods. “Good.” Then he nods to Pidge. “Thank you for the work you’ve done for me. I don’t think I can explain how much the fin alone will help me.”

Going pink, Pidge nods. “Yeah, no problem. Honestly, this is fun, and it’s nice to know the stuff I build helps people, rather than sits on my desk.” Her grin goes sly. “And maybe when you come back you’ll answer a couple more of my questions.”

Shiro’s brows go up, but he gives a smile back. “Maybe,” he says, openly teasing. Pidge only laughs, and Shiro relaxes further.

Nodding, Pidge stands up and shakes her head. Her curls stick up in the constantly humid bathroom. “Okay, Mom will be here soon. I should probably meet her down so she doesn’t want to come up.”

Hunk tugs on the bottom of his shirt. “This is probably obvious, but... I mean, just to be safe... you know. About, uh, everything...”

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Pidge says. She eyes him, though her smile is fond. “I get it. Super secret. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. Besides, who would believe me?” Her grin grows, showing far too many teeth. “I just like that  _ I _ get to know.”

Obviously Hunk has no way of stopping Pidge or preventing her from spreading the story. But he trusts her, and he believes it if she promises she’s not going to. So he just nods. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Easy as that, Pidge opens the bathroom door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hunk. And you in a month, Shiro.”

“Goodbye,” Shiro says, polite and formal, though his eyes are fond. 

Hunk waves. “Bye.”

Then she’s gone, leaving just them.

Silence stretches between them. Hunk knows he should talk to Shiro, figure out the last logistics of getting him to the beach. But that means that Shiro’ll leave once they’re done, and that means Hunk will just be waiting.

So Hunk says nothing. And neither does Shiro.

Despite that Shiro hasn’t even been here for a week, Hunk feels hollowed out when he thinks about tomorrow, and the next day, and the twenty-eight past that, assuming Shiro comes back. Having an extra person to look after and talk to has been nice. But soon it’ll be just Lance in the apartment with Hunk, and just Pidge at work.

Hunk hadn’t known until now he was lonely.

The silence stretches on. Hunk’s gaze settles on his feet, not wanting to speak up but. When he finally does look up again, Shiro has his left arm on the rim of the tub. His chin rests on top of that, his dark eyes soft as he watches Hunk.

“What?” Hunk asks, startled by the direct stare.

Shiro sighs. “I was just thinking. It’s silly, but I wished... it would be nice if you could meet the Princess. I think you would get along.”

Hunk cocks his head, thinking about what little Shiro has said about his friends. “You think so?” Hunk doesn’t see why they would, but Shiro also has an inflated view of him. Hunk would try and live up to that, but he’s not sure anyone else would see it.

“Yes,” Shiro says, perfectly confident. “But also... if you could cook underwater, I wonder if your food would help lift spirits. It helped me.”

Oh.

Hunk’s chest warms, and a smile grows reluctantly over his face. The misery is still simmering just below the surface, but the open compliments help dull it. “I don’t know about that.”

“It’s true.” Shiro gestures toward Hunk with his tail, a casual gesture as fluid as speaking with his hand. “I was miserable and scared. But you were so serious about taking care of me, and what you cooked for some strange creature in your bathroom was so good. It made me sure there were other good things to be had among humans. And I was right.”

Hunk’s heart pounds. He wants to duck away, hide from Shiro’s glowing regard nearly as much as he wants to bask in it. “Oh. Thank you.” Oddly enough, that moment had done the same in return. Shiro had been so wary, then so happy with basic care. It made Hunk see the circumstances from another perspective, and recognize that the merman in his tub wasn’t just a problem, but a  _ person. _

“Well, maybe I could visit?” Hunk says. “In the future, if I have SCUBA gear.”

Shiro’s nose crinkles in confusion, making his scar ripple. “Scu-bah?” He repeats the word back. “Whatever it is, I’m sure a spell could help too.”

Oh, right, magic. Hunk cocks his head, considering. “Maybe. I’d have to cook everything ahead of time, since I can’t exactly bring my oven.”

“Or your fire and sand,” Shiro agrees, nodding gravely. When Hunk glares, he grins back. “Even without the food, it would be nice. Just to show you around.”

“I’d be interested.” Hunk’s not sure how it’d work out logistically. It seems like a lot of bother to bring a human to the merperson world, especially when they have such an earned distrust of humanity. But it would be fascinating. 

Shiro perks up, and it’s only when his eyes brighten that Hunk sees how weighed down he’s been.

Shiro’s going to miss Hunk too. And he wants to think about visiting again. That’s all this is.

Maybe Hunk’s regard isn’t as one-sided as he’d assumed.

But none of that changes the fact that Shiro is  _ leaving. _

Taking a deep breath, Hunk clenches his hands by his sides. It’s time. There’s no sense sitting around in this awkward limbo, drawing out the seconds before it’s over. “I should get the clothes you borrowed before.” Then he hesitates. “Uh, I mean, assuming you can do that spell again. I know it tired you out, but I’m not sure how to get you to the beach without it. I have no idea how Lance got you here, actually.”

“I can do it,” Shiro says. He hesitates, eyes on Hunk again. Then his shoulders sag and he pulls out the drain on the tub. Then he closes his eyes and mouths something to himself.

There’s no light show, no metamorphosis. No purple lightning or glowing pink energy. One moment there’s a tail, and the next there are legs.

Bare legs.

Hunk squeaks and turns, cheeks burning. Behind him, he hears Shiro stand, water dripping down his thighs and  _ okay _ no more imagining that. “Be right back.”

Once he fetches the clothes and Shiro is reluctantly dressed, Hunk checks outside. Pidge isn’t in the parking lot, so her mother probably already came to pick her up. The sun set recently, so the streets are still teaming, but hopefully the beach will be quiet. People will be getting dinner, or avoiding the water at peak shark feeding hour.

Which means it’s time to go.

“Ready?” Hunk says. His stomach clenches and he stuffs his hands into his pockets.

Shiro stares at him, gaze steady and dark. Then he nods. “Ready.”

After last time, getting down the steps is easier. Shiro lifts his chin and gives a polite smile to everyone they pass. His visible limp serves as an excuse for their slow pace, and Hunk refuses to act like this is anything worth noticing.

After, they follow the road until they get to the beach access path. This section has a few families, mostly eating out on the beach with grills. A set of teenagers wanders through the shallows, chatting and dragging a boogie board behind them. Hunk leads Shiro further down, until those people are small and their voices too distant to make out.

It’s the closest to privacy they’re going to get.

Which means it’s time to go.

Shiro stares out over the ocean, his shoulders relaxing. He takes a deep breath as a smile curves over his face. Even on the beach, it’s clear this is Shiro’s element. Far closer to home than a little apartment and a cramped tub.

Letting him go is the right thing to do. Even if Hunk is going to miss him terribly.

“Thank you,” Shiro says, barely loud enough to hear. “I’ve said it before, but... I appreciate all you did to help me.” He kicks his right foot through the sand, indicating his fin without saying the words.

“Of course,” Hunk says. “I’m glad I did. I wish the circumstances had been better and you hadn’t been hurt, but I’m happy to have met you.” He crosses his arm, against the cool evening breeze and his pounding heart. “But if you want to make it up to me? Make sure you’re here in exactly 30 days. Otherwise I’ll worry about you. And that means you have to stay safe.”

Shiro’s eyes soften further. He steps forward and raises his hand until it connects with Hunk’s cheek. He can probably feel the heat of Hunk’s sudden, powerful blush. “I promise you. I’ll come back to you, Hunk.”

Hunk’s heart pounds and his breathing picks up. Shiro is less than a foot away, staring at him so seriously but so warmly. His palm is gentle against Hunk’s cheek, and if he just leans in forward-

Shiro does lean in.

But he shifts to the side and pulls Hunk into a firm hug.

After a moment, Hunk returns the gesture. His heart seems to be beating out the word ‘maybe’, feeling him with mixed hope and doubt, but he melts into the touch anyway.

“I’ll wait for you,” Hunk whispers back.

“Thank you.” Shiro gives another squeeze. He hesitates before he steps backward, away from Hunk and into the surf.

Shiro turns and dives into the water. There’s a flash of a huge black tail, with barely visible flecks of purple.

Then he’s gone.

Hunk stares after as the sky grows darker and the night colder.

Only then does he make the slow trek home.

***

Okay, specifying 30 days had been good and all, but Hunk should have also chosen a  _ time. _

A check of his phone proved it was, indeed, exactly 30 days after Shiro had swam back away into the ocean, and Hunk didn’t have his date wrong. It also proved that it was past 11 at night.

Another issue: Hunk should have said 31 days, so he wouldn’t have work in the morning. Or he should have taken off.

Crossing his arms, Hunk paced up and down the length of the beach. Identical lines crossing the beach around him, proof of how many times he’s already done that. He’d come around 8, knowing Shiro would probably wait till sundown for better privacy. But in the three hours between, Hunk had plenty of time to fret and be impatient.

Next time, he was going to eat before heading out too, so he wouldn’t have to eat the shitty hotdogs from the closest vendor instead.

How long was the journey from Shiro’s home to the beach? Hunk had no idea, and he also didn’t know what could hold Shiro up. Well, other than a merperson  _ war, _ and whatever battles or strategy meetings or important events could be happening. Or injuries he could be getting.

Or worse.

Hunk tugged off his headband and ran a hand through his hair, trying to distract himself from that spiral of dark thoughts. He’d already been there several times over the past few hours. No amount of worrying or thinking about terrible possibilities would make Shiro appear, or make him calmer. The opposite, really.

How much longer could he stay out? Hunk needed to get home and sleep for tomorrow. But he didn’t want to miss Shiro if he’d come out all this way. But didn’t there have to be a cut off point? Should Hunk stay up all night? It didn’t help anyone if he did and he was exhausted  _ and _ disappointed tomorrow, but if he left and Shiro came and didn’t know how to get back to the apartment, then-

A splash came from behind Hunk. In the water.

Whirling, Hunk held his breath. A pale figure emerged from the water, dark inky hair plastered to their face and neck. At first, Hunk took a step forward, until he registered how slender the person was. And that they had two arms.

Not Shiro.

Hunk turned away again, just as the figure spoke. “That him?”

“Yes!”

_ That _ voice was achingly, wonderfully familiar.

Hunk turned and ran, charging into the ocean as Shiro emerged. His eyes were on Hunk, and his expression was openly delighted. He ran forward - indeed on legs, and clad in the same pajama pants he’d left in, though without a shirt. They met halfway, crashing together in a wave of water and wet, tangled limbs.

“I missed you,” Shiro whispered, clutching Hunk’s shirt.

“I missed you too,” Hunk said. He buried his face in Shiro’s neck, letting his solid, physical presence ease his anxiety.

Behind them, there was a delicate cough. When Hunk looked over Shiro’s shoulder, the slender man from before was watching them flatly. He stood on two legs as well, and he wore Hunk’s old t-shirt. It hung just barely low enough to cover everything important. “Hello,” he said, nodding to Hunk.

“Hi,” Hunk replied. He gave Shiro a last firm squeeze, then stepped back. “Uh, you brought a friend, Shiro?”

“Define brought.” Shiro’s cheeks went pink as he gestured back. “Keith, this is Hunk. He’s one of the one I told you about. Hunk, this is Keith. He’s my oldest friend, and he wouldn’t let me come alone.”

“When Shiro goes places alone, he gets kidnapped or washes up on human beaches,” Keith said bluntly. But despite his stern posture, there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “So I decided to come.”

Hunk snorted and nodded agreeably. “You know what? You’re absolutely right.”

“Hey!” Despite his objection, Shiro only smiled at them both. “Is it okay? Keith can keep his legs for longer without getting tired.”

“I’m half human,” Keith explained, snorting at Shiro’s polite wording.

Four people was a lot for their little apartment, but they’d figure it out. Hunk was far too happy to have Shiro back to complain about a little something like an extra guest. “Of course. Now let’s head back. I’m hungry.”

Immediately, Shiro’s gaze brightened. He charged out of the water, then waited for Hunk and Keith to follow. Once out, Shiro started to ask questions - how was Lance? How was Pidge? How had work been? What was he working on? What had Hunk cooked?

As they walked, Hunk felt himself relax, despite the way his heart pounded against his ribcage. He’d had a month to decide Shiro’s intimate hug last time had been a result of lack of experience with humans. Not a signal. That was fine.

Hunk was just happy to have him back.

Except as they walked, Shiro reached out and slid his hand against Hunk’s. When he looked over, Shiro gave him a soft smile, cheeks pink, as he linked their hands together and squeezed tightly.

_ Maybe, _ Hunk’s heart said, thumping the word out again.  _ Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. _

Hunk smiled, and relaxed as Shiro smiled back, warm and fond.

There was so much to work out and so much left unsaid.

But Hunk squeezed Shiro’s hand back and let himself feel hopeful for the future.


End file.
